


Fire and Ice

by burning_ice_got



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Death, Dragons, Drama, Duty, Eventual Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, F/M, Family, Fantasy, Heartbreaking, Honor, Incest, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Killing, Lions, Love, Night Terrors, Pain, Past, Sacrifice, Smut, Snow, Thriller, Tragedy, Truth, War, Wights, Winter, Wolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-08-28 23:45:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burning_ice_got/pseuds/burning_ice_got
Summary: Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen set sail for Winterfell. The king can't fight his feelings for her anymore and decides to let them loose. Despite the great danger and their responsibilities as king and queen, both yield to each other consumed by love. The Great War is coming and painful truths are ascertained. Will their love defy the cruel destiny and fight down death?"When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground." - Cersei Lannister





	1. The Dragon and the Wolf"

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, bibliophiles! I have for you another Jonerys fanfiction, based on the final season of "Game of Thrones". This story represents a contour of my imagination and how I would like the 8th season to be like. I really hope you'll enjoy reading it. Thank you!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 17.02.2019

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠ This story has mature content and/or profanity ⚠

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 _“We sail together…”_ – Those words keep echoing in Jon’s mind. Even if it’s midnight he cannot sleep, the very thought of her making him breathe shallowly. Fidgeting in his bed, he feels how his pulse is throbbing in his ears and the need to be near his queen pushes him to the realization that he loves her deeply. He can’t deny his feelings anymore.

The way he’s feeling now is far more intense and different than the way he felt for Ygritte. That ginger girl got under his skin, it’s true. But that’s it. He came to the realization that love means an entirely different thing. A few weeks ago, when he first stepped on the shores of Dragonstone, he’s never thought that a woman will knock him off his perch.

Daenerys is not the woman he thought she was. In spite of her queenly stoicism, she showed him more than once how honorable and kind-hearted she can be. With the loss of her dragon, she let her guard down, allowing him to see the innocence and the pain she felt after this tragedy befell her. She came to his aid beyond the Wall and risked so much. Yet, she’s not regretting it.

 _Daenerys Targaryen… What have you done to me? [sigh] This is not right. The way I feel about her is…_ _Gods, dammit! Why now, you fool? Why did you have to fall in love now, when soon the end of the world might be coming?_ – Jon squeezes his eyes shut and pictures a life with her. Things have changed so much since he was just a boy. He’s never thought to have a family of his own, when he joined the Night’s Watch. - _I’m going to see her, no matter what._

[…]

Jon is standing in front of her wooden door, ready to knock. A sudden wave of new emotions is running through his body. What if she rejects him? What if everything is just an illusion and he’ll make a fool of himself?

Hesitating for a few moments, he draws in a deep breath before he takes his courage in both hands to do it at long last. His heart goes wild as Daenerys slowly opens the door and her eyes meet his. That look she has on her face is piercing deep the core of his heart.

_He loves her._

Daenerys is speechless. Her heart skips a beat as soon as the door cracks open and her eyes settle on his face. They are staring at one another, both being at a loss for words. Even so, there’s nothing their eyes and bodies cannot translate.

She knows why he came, she knows what he wants. And she decides to stop fighting her own urges.

_She loves him._

More than a week passed since Jon came back from beyond the Wall. They shared a tender moment in his cabin. She saw his scars way long before that and she couldn't help but wonder: _How can someone survive such wounds?_   He was definitely no ordinary man.

Daenerys could see herself in him. She admired his loyalty towards his people, she noticed how different he is from the other men, how bravely and honorably he behaves.

When Jon Snow finally bent the knee, the queen realized that she fell for this man. Until that moment, none of them were fully aware of their feelings towards each other and both knew that the inevitability will happen at some point. She has fought to contain her feelings, because she knew that this was a bad timing and a queen should not be reckless. Neither a king. But both tried in vain…

The way his eyes bore into hers... She has never thought a man could awake something like this in her, not ever. After all this time, she finds herself surrendering and embracing these emotions. This is wrong beyond limits, but she wants him. With all her heart, she is craving for his love. _Yes, Daenerys Stormborn…You fell in love with the King in the North._

Here they are, face to face, ready to let their unrestrained feelings loose. She gently opens the door wider, her eyes inviting him in. That’s it. There’s no turning back now.

Without any hesitation and spellbound by her beauty, Jon walks through her door and closes it behind them. Fixing her with an amative gaze, he takes a step closer and breathes her in deeply. Sweet amber and myrrh. Her exotic fragrance is like an aphrodisiac.

Daenerys is fascinated by how ridiculously handsome he looks, his lips so enticing, supplicating to be kissed; his dark brown eyes glowing with an untamed desire, that makes her knees going weak.

Jon touches her face in a featherlike manner, his thumb lingering along her eyebrow, cheekbone and then tracing the outline of her lips. His fingertips are electric, they must be, for wherever they touch her skin tingles in a frenzy of static. Dany closes her eyes, allowing his touch to seep through each one of her pores. She finds herself panting.

Observing her reaction, his hands wrap around her back. In one gentle pull, their bodies touch and the suddenness of it thrills them both. She feels his hand in her hair, how he loves the softness, watching the loose tresses tumble as he releases them. With a soft sound, Jon pins her against the door and his lips hover near hers, close enough to kiss. His breaths brush against her face. She counts each one, committing them to memory. She wants to remember this moment, the smell of him, everything that comes next.

Jon clasps his hands on either side of her face and then their lips touch. In that split second, every nerve in her body is electrified. It’s the anticipation of being together in a way that's more than words or thoughts, in a way that's so completely tangible.

He kisses her, softly, sweetly, his lips sliding across hers, soft and damp and silky smooth. The passion from before unfolds like a flower into tenderness, each petal drifting over them, undoing them completely until they lay open, exposed and greedy.

 _Jon…_ she mumbles when their lips part for a brief moment. He kisses her with urgency now, his mouth pressing harder, thrusting, retreating, inviting her to do the same. Within seconds she is soaking wet and aching for more. She wants so much more of this man.

Jon loosens the knotted laces of her gown, enjoying every new reveal of skin as the fabric opens her for him. They kiss again. His lips brush hers. Not innocently, like a tease but hot, fiery, passionate and demanding.

Daenerys is surprised to hear the involuntary gasps emanating from her throat. The whimpers become moans as his hand lowers to caress her breast beneath the cloth of her dress. And then, the fabric slides down across her arms, brushing against her skin and eventually falling at her feet.

“You’re so beautiful.” he whispers slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them.

Jon slowly divests her of the remaining garments, taking in every inch of her ethereal beauty. He is mesmerized by the blue eyes, with a green and golden tint, that stare so intently into his own.

The queen reaches for his neck armor, undoing it and tossing it away. Piece by piece his clothes fall on the floor and he stands there, before her, proudly naked and beautiful, so masculine it nearly takes her breath away.

She can’t take her eyes off him. That scar above his heart, she instinctively touches it, her fingers tracing a light pattern across its length. His chest rises under her touch, his eyes following her hand, gently gliding down his abdomen in excruciating slow designs.

He pulls her into his embrace for another fervent kiss, growling in it as Dany whimpers in pleasure. His need grows stronger, urging him to take hold of her with more zeal.

Bodies pressed against each other, hearts set ablaze, lips squashing and teeth nipping… it seems like hours.

Jon’s eyes are wicked with promise as he breaks the kiss to look at her. She almost swoons from that look.

His chest is heating her like a dragon flame, while his hands are holding her tighter on either side of her waist. Traveling across her skin, down her buttocks, his palms splay across them, gently kneading and exploring their plenitude.

 _Dany…_ he whispers her name.

And they kiss again, this time like there’s no tomorrow. Both of them are panting, the breath ragged and not enough. In a daze, Daenerys opens her eyes and studies him while he’s kissing her. Jon is looking at her too, his eyes slumberous and full with desire, a fathomless desire…

She leads him slowly to the bed and both lay on it, her tiny body on top of him. Their contiguity causes a strange sensation, pooling like honey in his abdomen.

Jon feels her hand wandering over his torso, her fingers painting slowly every inch of skin and every scar they can find. Her warm moisture leaves a wet trace on his thigh, but she doesn’t care. With every kiss, Jon is drawing her into his heat, into his fire, making her body aching and throbbing for something she didn’t experience truly by now.

In a swift move, Jon turns over and climbs on top of her. His mouth and tongue feels velvety and mellow, a sharp contrast to the hard length of his body pressed against hers. Jon uses his knees to nudge her thighs farther apart and settles himself between her legs.

She cradles his hips, feeling the long, thick, pounding beat of him against her thighs. With a delicate move, he enters her, filling her warm and silky deepness.

Daenerys moans in response and he kisses her, sighing into her mouth as if he found joy in her joy. She pulls his body down tightly against her, skin to skin. The profoundness of this feeling causes her to shudder against him, her legs quaking just like isinglass.

She feels the length and level of his arousal inside her, Jon’s thrusts being slow and deep, his hips moving fluidly as he claims her body. Both are on fire, feeling branded as they melt into one.

Her back arches against him and her fingertips dig into his back, losing all control of her senses. The queen yields completely to him, submissive and ravenous for his love.

Jon stops for a moment, brown eyes staring into her soul. She knows for sure now, that she loves him dearly…completely. _Love comes in at the eyes..._

Drogo was her first love. His death was painful and she thought she’ll never love anyone as much as she loved her khal. Daario on the other hand made her feel alive, but that was not enough. She never loved him. The thought that she won’t find place in her heart for any man, terrified her.

Coming back to Westeros was a decision that changed her life in an unexpected way. And here she is… loving the King in the North with all her heart. More than she once loved Drogo or anyone else.

Jon looks at her intently to make sure that she’s indeed real. The memory of Ygritte is now just a far memory buried in a deep corner of his subconscious. The only woman he truly loves is looking back at him in this very moment. And knowing that he might lose her in this war…

He chases every thought away and kisses her in a shocking way, his gentle strokes, increasingly becoming rough and greedy.

Dany shivers wildly with every thrust as Jon forces himself further and further inside of her. Their bodies move together in unison, the pleasure tantalizing them as their love making intensifies.

 _I love you…_ She feels it. He feels it. Both want to say it out loud, but somehow those words are muffled by the fear of what they might cause. Their heartbeats on the other hand don’t lie.

Daenerys threads her fingers in the silk of his hair, her soft moans being music to Jon’s ears. Her eyes are fluttering shut as a last sweet, slick, ruthless stroke overcomes both completely.

She throws her head back into the pillow, arching her body for him. “Jon…” she gasps, as she captures every inch of him deep within her core.

He groans roughly, withdrawing one more time, just enough that she feels the loss of him, before he’s diving inside of her again in a shattering thrust. The sweet smell of her juices mixing with his own musky scent and the feel of her body conjoined with his, all fight for his attention.

Her whole body shivers with the flood ecstasy, Jon reaching soon the same sweet fulfillment she had found.

Coming down from their bliss, Jon collapses on top of her, shaking, his eyes heavy lidded. Daenerys holds him tenderly against her bosom, her hands buried in his raven locks.

He lifts his head and smiles at her, a tender kiss pampering her lips.

A long delicious time afterwards, she lays her head on his chest, listening to his heart slowing down from its erratic wildness to a measured beat. They turn onto their sides facing each other and Jon caresses her cheek, smiling lovingly at her. “ _My queen…”_

Daenerys props herself up on her elbow and kisses him affectionately. She hugs him, nestling herself in his arms. “ _My king…”_ Smiling to herself, her eyelids close. They bask in the afterglow of their lovemaking, for this is a moment they never want to end.

[...]

A few hours passed since Dany fell asleep.  She lays next to Jon, naked, her face bright and beautiful, their bodies entwined together. Her leg rests above his thigh and one of her hands against his chest. Jon can’t sleep. It is impossible with a sight like this.

He caresses her hair and contemplates her body. For him she’s like a fane. So unbelievably beautiful … and now she’s his.

Daenerys starts to budge and slowly opens her eyes, letting out a sleepy moan. She sees him staring at her and a broad smile creeps on her face. This is the first time he sees her smiling like this…

“Jon, how long have you been awake?”

“Not enough…” Leaning closer, his lips land on hers, Daenerys genuinely welcoming his kiss.

As soon as their lips part, he stares at his queen with brooding eyes. She knows why… They both knew when they decided to love each other, that there was no turning back. Their feelings were too powerful to fight them anymore. But still, _their love_ is a dangerous thing.

Daenerys slams her lips to his, nearly knocking all wind from his lungs, this time steeped in a passion that ignites. She wants to make the best of these moments, to feel alive for as long as it still lasts.

The kiss obliterates every thought. Jon’s mind locks into the present and every worry disappears, as he savours her lips and the quickening of her breath that matches his own. He slants her head further, deepening the kiss, a kiss that is like a promise of much more to come.

 

* * *

** King's Landing **

Cersei sits at her desk, looking outside and caressing her belly. She’s lost in thoughts.

Qyburn knocks on her door. “Your Grace, may I come in?”

“Yes, please.” She stands and clasps her hands in front of her upper body.

“I’ve brought you supper, my Queen. And a bit of Dreamwine to help you sleep.”

“Thank you…”

“My Queen, my I ask you something?” She nods . “Ser Jamie… did you tell him about your pregnancy?”

She turns and looks outside again from her window. “No. That traitor doesn’t deserve to know. He chose his camp. He chose that silver-haired bitch and her wolf pup over me.” She pauses a few moments and shifts to face her Hand. “And he will suffer the same fate as any other traitor.”

“What about Euron Greyjoy?”

“Soon he’ll be here. He’ll bring what we need to destroy all our enemies.”

“I know about that, Your Grace… What I meant was—“

“I know what you meant, Qyburn. Euron will receive what he wants. After I see Ned’s bastard corpse and the one of his bloody queen he swore allegiance to. Send the Mountain in. I have a special job for him.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Qyburn bows and leaves her chamber.

 

* * *

 

** Winterfell **

Sansa sits at the long table, her brother and sister beside her. The Great Hall is full with northern lords.

“Our king is on his way back to Winterfell. He’s accompanied by Daenerys Targaryen.”

Everyone starts clamoring. Lord Glover stands up visibly disturbed.

“This is unacceptable! He’s bringing an usurper to our lands and he expects us to believe she’ll help us?”

“My lord, this is not debatable! Jon is our king and he knows what’s best!”

Their voices are getting louder and the lords start bickering among themselves. Lyanna Mormont stands and tries to draw their attention. “My lords! Stop arguing like old women and listen to Lady Stark! This is important and I am sure our king knows what he is doing!”

“With all due respect my lady, but—“

“If you have any trace of respect, then you should sit and listen!” Brienne looks at her with nothing but pure admiration. She is young, but so mature for her age and fierce.

Lord Glover nods and everybody sits down, waiting for Sansa to proceed.

“As I said, our alliance with the Dragon Queen succeeded. I’m not saying this is going to be a pleasant thing, but we need her army. And more important for us right now is to get out of this war alive. They tried to make a truce with Cersei Lannister—“

Lord Glover starts to complain again. “You want us to fight beside the woman who turned this realm into a living hell? You forgot what they did to your family? To your father?”

“Of course not! No one’s less pleased about this matter more than I am! I know those people; the way they act, the way they think! I’m not in the position to question Jon’s decisions. He is our king and we must wait for his return. I am sure he’ll explain clearly the situation. Thank you, my lords for your patience.”

They all stand, the room filling with tumult. Everyone heads outside, leaving the Great Hall.

“That went well.” Arya comments, half smiling. She pulls out her chair and stands.

 “Where are you going?” Sansa asks.

“I need to practice. I’ll be on the battlefield with my brother soon.”

Bran watches her heading to the courtyard. “She’s a strong woman.”

Sansa sighs. “She is…”

 

 

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** Narrow Sea – Targaryen Ship **

Jon looks out of the window, watching the sun rising. Daenerys fell asleep after their love making, but he couldn’t ... He is so troubled. Looking back at her, he feels his heart aching. _[sigh] Why is this world so full of shit? Things could have been so different… Gods, how much I love her…”_

Her eyes flutter open and she looks towards the window, where he stands propped against the sill. His hair is loose and his body still bare. She ogles him, admitting that in defiance of his stature, Jon Snow is indeed a beautiful man.

She gets out of bed, walking with a catlike tread towards her king. Jon feels her arms circling his waist, soft lips kissing the nape of his neck. Her nose tickles his skin as she breathes him in.

He turns around and leans in, so his forehead rests against hers. “Go back to sleep…” he says in barely more than a whisper.

“You are the one who should sleep. You look so tired…”

Jon smiles. “I’m fine…”

Daenerys looks down and sees his scars more clearly. “Who did this to you?” she asks him, a slight tremble in her voice.

“It’s a long story… I promise I’ll tell you another time.”

She nods and looks into his eyes, tears beginning to well in her own. “Jon, I—“

His kiss stifles her words for a long moment. “You’re mine, Daenerys Targaryen…”

 


	2. "A Dragon in the North" - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran Stark has a series of visions. Events from the present and the past are perceived through the eyes of the Three-Eyed Raven. Meanwhile, a gathering takes place in the Great Hall of Winterfell.  
> Jaime encounters an old friend on his way North.  
> Jon and Daenerys share more tender moments together, before they arrive at White Harbor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter coming soon. I'm glad you guys liked the 1st one. Thank you very much!
> 
> ⚠ This story has mature content and/or profanity ⚠

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**Winterfell**

Bran Stark is in the Godswood. His eyes are blank as he skinchanges into a raven and flies past the Wall. The flock of birds is spreading, when a horn is blown thrice and from the forest heave into sight hundreds of wights.

A frightening screeching sound pierces the air and a huge creature strikes through the fog flying overhead, with an unbelievable speed. An uproar is provoked, wildlings and men from the Night's Watch start screaming in terror. The scaly dragon blows fire, the detrimental magic breath scattering the Wall bit by bit into pieces.

Eastwatch-by-the-sea is brought down, allowing the dead men to permeate among the realm. Bran feels the freezing cold enveloping his body. A succession of new visions from the past floods his mind, switching in a very fast manner. He sees Jon’s past clearer, events mixing together.

 _The moment Lyanna saw Rhaegar for the first time; the tourney of Harrenhal, when he placed a garland of winter roses in her lap; the way Rhaegar died, being whacked with a hammer._ _The prince muttered her name under his last breath. “Lyanna… my child…” Robert Baratheon looked him in the eye as he died. “I’ll kill each one of you.”_

_King’s Landing. Tywin Lannister. Elia Martell. Bran's vision switches and sees Gregor Clegane killing her and her children, before he cuts them all to pieces._

_He starts to breath heavily. The Mad King's image appears in his head screaming “Burn them all!” He sees the wildfire, Jamie Lannister stabbing the king to death, Robert’s assassins heading to Dragonstone to kill Daenerys Targaryen and her five year old brother._

_Lastly, he sees himself standing in the courtyard of Winterfell. Ned Stark returns home with Jon in his arms._ _“The Prince that was Promised will bring the Dawn.” Someone utters words in a different language and Bran turns around. The place swaps once again._

_Rainfall. A cry of a newborn child. “Stormborn…” voices whisper in his head, humming unintelligible words._

“My lord…” maester Wolkan shakes him, as Bran starts having convulsions. “My lord!” Concerned, the old man grabs the wheelchair and rushes towards the keep.

[…]

Lord Yohn Royce walks along the hall with hastened paces and stops Sansa in her tracks. “My lady… your brother…”  His look is full of disquietude.

“What happened? Where is Bran?”

“He’s with maester Wolkan and Samwell Tarly, my lady. He's unwell.”

Sansa rushes down the stairs and enters her brother's chamber. She sees him quivering, his eyes lost.

“My lady, something is wrong with him!” Sam is sitting on the bedside, holding a cloth in his hand.

She looks aghast. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know… he had a vision. Maester Wolkan says he uttered something in the True Tongue.”

“The True Tongue…? What does that even mean?”

“I’ve read it in a book. It was the language of the Children of the Forest. No human can speak it, but ravens can.” Sansa looks back at her brother, amazed and concerned at the same time. She’s still not used to the ‘Three-Eyed Raven’ thing.

“Jon…we need to tell him… He needs to know…” Bran mumbles, getting everyone’s attention.

Sansa looks from her delirious brother at Sam. “What is he talking about?”

Sam shakes his head. “You’ll know… when it's time.”

 

* * *

**Targaryen ship - Narrow Sea**

Jon is outside on the deck, checking the coordinates. The stingy air prickles his face. Winter already reached the South.

Tyrion approaches him and stops near the mast. “So…” Jon hears him and turns around. “Soon we’ll face the greatest danger in Westeros’ history. Are you ready for that?”

“[sigh] I have to be…”

Tyrion smiles and looks down for a moment. “What about the queen? Is she ready for that?”

Jon blinks and looks at him brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean…”

Jon inhales deeply, averting his eyes. Before he can say something, Tyrion continues. “I know you love her. I saw you last night…”

Jon swallows and looks wryly at him. “And…?”

“I don’t judge you. It’s not my right to do so… but—“

“But what? This is something between me and Daenerys. It’s not your concern.”

“Actually it is. As Hand I must advise her. I know she is in love with you as well, but this is not a good time for romance… I’ve seen what love does in times of war.” Jon clenches his teeth and bypasses Tyrion, his body filled with anger and not wanting to hear anything else. He stops though, when Tyrion proceeds. “This is dangerous. More than you can imagine. But I’m afraid it’s too late...” Tyrion glances one more time at the king and moves away.

 _Love is the death of duty_ \- Jon remembers maester Aemon’s words. He was just a boy back then. He didn’t care about family, love and children. He didn’t know what that meant. But the old wise man was right. _“What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms . . . or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.”_

He looks at the sea, unblinking. Sorrow slinks inside his heart and a deep breath causes his chest to rise, at the expansion of his lungs. Jon closes his eyes tightly, exhaling hard.

 

* * *

 

**The Night’s Watch**

Tormund found his way to Castle Black. Both him and Beric Dondarrion survived after the Night King destroyed Eastwatch-by-the-Sea.

Edd Tollett, the current Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch received news regarding the eastern part of the Wall being destroyed.

Tormund is horrified. He tells Edd about the Night King using Daenerys’ dead dragon to break down the Wall.

“We must hurry!” Edd shouts, “We must tell Jon!”

Tormund shivers and grabs his forearm, his eyes swollen. “How the fuck are we going to do that?! You didn’t hear me?! They’ve already invaded the lands! They will kill us all!”

“We must find a way, Tormund!” Edd paces nervously around his quarter.

“If they went throughout the Bay of Seals, the first place they’ll reach is Last Hearth, the seat of House Umber. They’ll be at Winterfell in a fortnight." Beric Dondarrion looks at them both.

"I’ll give you a horse. You both must go to Winterfell.”

"What about you?" Tormund asks.

"I'll gather the men we have. And we'll come to help Jon."

 

* * *

 

**Targaryen ship - Narrow Sea**

Jon meets Daenerys in the corridor. She sees him approaching and smiles, her eyes full of nothing but joy. Reaching up to his lips, she kisses him tenderly. That was enough to soothe his nerves and chase his moodiness.

“What if someone sees us?” Jon smiles, his hand stroking her face.

“Let them.” Raising herself on her tiptoes, she plants another kiss on his lips. After that, Daenerys opens the door and Jon follows her inside her cabin. “When will we land exactly?” she asks him.

“We will arrive at White Harbor in less than a week. Lord Whyman of House Manderly will be there to meet us and then we’ll all head to Winterfell. He is a powerful bannerman of House Stark and it’s important to see us as allies.”

Daenerys nods. “You said we’ll meet the Dothraki and the Unsullied on the Kingsroad…”

“Yes, my queen. We must all ride forth after we meet. Lord Manderly will help us to unload and carry the Dragonglass weapons. He has enough resources. I’ve already sent a raven to White Harbor… and one to Winterfell.”

She gulps once. “Do you think they’ll hate me?” Jon narrows his eyes, waiting for clarification. “Your family I mean… I know what my father has put you all through…”

“Look at me…” he says cupping her face, “It’s not your fault for what happened in the past. They will have to understand that. You are our queen now.”

“I’m not sure I want that anymore…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I just want us to survive. I want people to survive… Besides, the northerners chose you as their king. And now I understand why…” She caresses his face. “You are a good man, Jon Snow. I don’t want to take that away from you…”

Jon leans forward and kisses her hard. “I want you to be our queen. People have no better choice than you. They will love you, I know they will… and that will be because of who you are. _You’re not like everyone else,_ Daenerys Targaryen.

“Jon…” unshed tears make her eyes glisten, “If we die—“

Jon silences her, putting a finger over her lips and blocking the next words to be pronounced. He shakes his head and leans closer to her lips. “Don’t …” he whispers and then his mouth consumes hers.

 

* * *

 

**Kingsroad**

Jaime Lannister is on his way to Winterfell. A few days passed since he left King’s Landing and the weather was getting colder. He sought shelter at Harrenhal for one night and continued his trip on the Kingsroad, until he reached Inn at the Crossroads.

Hot Pie sees him coming inside. He carries a tray full of food and a beer jug.

“You are Jaime Lannister…”

Jaime lifts his eyes at the fat boy and nods. “Give me one of those. And a horn of ale.”

Hot Pie places a plate with fried beef ribs on the table and sits next to him. “Are you heading to Winterfell?” Jaime doesn’t answer. “I’ve heard the King in the North will arrive soon at White Harbor.” The boy leans closer and whispers: “He’s coming with the Dragon Queen… People talk about what comes from beyond the Wall. They are scared.”

Jaime knits his eyebrows. The boy is too bold.

“Arya Stark was here. She went home. Now that her brother is king…”

“Arya Stark?” Jaime is surprised.

“Yes. She survived all these years on her own. She’s become a strong lady…”

Sitting at a table in the corner, a man eavesdrops at their conversation. He’s wearing a black winter hood.

“Boy!” a man shouts, “My food, for fuck’s sake!”

Hot Pie leaps from his chair and greets Ser Jaime. “Safe travel, my lord.”

[…]

After a while, the man approaches his table and sits next to him. He removes his hood and Jaime widens his eyes. “Bronn!”

“Jaime fookin’ Lannister! You dodged me again…”

“It was never my intention to—“

Bronn continues in an angry whisper, interrupting him: “Listen you cunt… I had to leave King’s Landing before your sister could find me and stuff my own guts through my throat. And for what? I got no reward after I risked my ass for you!”

“[sigh] I am sorry, Bronn but I don’t think she would have given you something. She doesn’t trust me anymore. Together with Greyjoy, both plotted behind my back… I couldn’t stay there anymore… I made a promise and I want to fulfill that. Cersei saw that _thing_ at the pit and she didn’t care.”

“I don’t give a shit about that! You always want to fulfill promises for others but what about me?”

“Instead of complaining, you should come with me.”

“Oh no! I’m done with you cunts! I will flee Westeros before those liches come here. With the gold I have I can live comfortable for a while.”

“And then what? If those things will kill us all, they will find their way to every land they can find. And I would like to see Ser Bronn of the fuckin’ Blackwater dealing with them after all.”

Jaime stands up and places a few golden coins on the table. “You stay here and rot if you want. But I must go…” He turns around and is ready to leave.

“Wait…” Bronn grabs his golden hand and Jamie looks down at him. “You might be a cunt, but you’re my friend. I will go with you…” Jaime smiles slyly and both leave the inn.

 

* * *

 

** Targaryen ship – near the White Harbor **

Daenerys dressed herself up. In the last few days, she spent every night with Jon Snow. They had meetings with their counselors and everyone could see something is happening between them. The way they looked at each other, the way they smiled and how they always agreed with each other's decisions said it all.

Each night, Jon sneaked inside her cabin and made love with her. Neither of them could get enough of it. Each intercourse was better than the previous and they made the best of that.

Last night though was particularly different. Jon showed her a side of him she didn't know existed. Their love making was so intense.

The way he touched her and the way his hands fondled every inch of her skin; the way he kissed her with so much hunger and despair; the way he slid inside her and whispered her name between moans. She clung to him like it was the end of the world.

Jon did something to her, no man ever did. He kissed her _there_ , in her most sensitive spots; his mouth was on her core, on her nub, his tongue running along her folds, thrusting and brushing against the outer bits and reaching every little bit of her… Jon tasted her in every possible manner, prolonging her desire to the point where her body was at the crest, but wouldn’t fall.  She loved it. She loved _him_ …

Daenerys looks at her king who is still asleep. She sits on his bedside and contemplates him. _He is so handsome... so beautiful and kind._ Removing a curly black strand of hair from his face, she closes her eyes for a while.

"I love you..." she whispers and kisses his lips gently. Letting him sleep, she goes outside on the deck and looks at the sunrise melting into the horizon. A port comes into sight: White Harbor - "We are here..." she utters to herself.

 


	3. "A Dragon in the North" - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Euron Greyjoy arrives from Pentos with the Golden Company. After disembarking at White Harbor, Jon and Daenerys head North. The king reunites with his family and disturbing news will turn everything in a turmoil, before a real pandemonium breaks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is here for you, guys! Enjoy!
> 
> ⚠ This story has mature content and/or profanity ⚠

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**Winterfell**

As days passed, the northerners worked on the reinforcement of the walls.

“We need each one of these chestplates lined with leather. Thicker leather. It’s getting colder with each passing day.” Sansa is talking with the blacksmiths. She organized everything. People obeyed her orders and she liked that for the first time in her life, she felt powerful. “Lord Royce, now that Littlefinger is gone, I would like to talk with you about my cousin, Robin. He’s now the lord of the Vale and the Vale is protected and surrounded by the Mountains of the Moon. That’s a good defense against any attack.”

“Indeed, my lady…”

“I’ve never seen the Night King, but I want to make sure that if something bad happens here, we have a place to retry and protect our people.”

“Of course, my lady. I will send a raven to the Eyrie.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Walking through the courtyard, Sansa spots Arya training with Brienne. She stops and watches.

“You’re quite a wonder, my lady!” Brienne shouts as Arya parries her sword attacks. “I’ve never been this good with a sword at your age.”

Sansa comes towards them. “Arya, may I talk to you for a minute? It’s about Bran.”

Arya nods and puts her sword in its sheath. Before Sansa can say something else, the North Gates open. Tormund enters and dismounts his horse, Beric following suit. Their faces, hair and beards are frozen.

Arya grips the pommel of her sword tighter and walks towards the men. The last time she crossed paths with Beric Dondarrion, she swore she'll have his head one day, for he sold Gendry to the Red Priestess.

A slight smirk takes shape on his face. Seeing her alive and well, home and surrounded by her family was not something he expected. But Arya was her father's daughter after all.

Bran comes outside with maester Wolkan. He seems to be on the mend after he slipped into unconsciousness. A few days passed and Sansa is relieved to see her brother is alright. She smiles slightly, but then her look turns at the wildling.

“Jon!” he shouts with despair. “Jon!” he sprints and stops in front of the keep, panting.

“What’s wrong, Tormund? What are you doing here? Jon’s not here yet.”

“The Night King…” Bran starts, “He’s coming…” Sansa looks at her brother in shock.

“He’s right!” Tormund shouts and then glances at Brienne. “Eastwatch-by-the-Sea is broken! They have the dragon!”

Arya grabs his arm and looks into his eyes. “What dragon?”

 

* * *

 

**White Harbor**

Jon, Daenerys, Tyrion, Missandei, Grey Worm and Ser Davos were all together on the deck. The ship docked in the harbor and lord Manderly waited for them to disembark. Jon called Gendry and instructed him to gather the others and get ready to unload the Dragonglass weapons.

“Our king has returned!” lord Wyman smiles and greets Jon.

“My lord, thank you for waiting. We arrived a bit later. The winds were harsh and it seems winter comes faster than I thought.”

“We are glad to have you back, White Wolf!”

Jon smiles and pats the old man’s shoulder. Looking back, both see Daenerys approaching.

The king introduces her to Wyman. “My lord, this is Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen. Our new ally.”

Lord Manderly looks at her with a neutral face and ducks his head. “Queen Daenerys. Welcome!”

She can see the man’s skepticism. But she can’t blame him. After all, her father was known for his cruelty.

“Thank you, my lord.” Daenerys smiles and slightly ducks her head as a sign of respect for the old man.

Turning his attention to Jon, lord Manderly shows a beaming smile. “Your sister awaits you, my king. She prepared everything for your arrival. But until we get back to Winterfell, perhaps you’d like some rest. You are welcome to New Castle.”

“Thank you for your kindness, my lord. But we must keep going. We will meet the queen’s army on the Kingsroad and then we’ll ride together to Winterfell.”

“As you wish, my king. Wylis! Tell maester Theomore to send a raven to Winterfell and announce lady Stark that we’re on our way. And gather your children and the rest of our family. We’ll leave in a few hours.”

“Yes, father.”

 

* * *

 

**King’s Landing**

Euron Greyjoy arrived from Pentos with the Golden Company. Twenty thousand mercenaries and three dozen war grey elephants were on board of his ships.

After they docked in the harbor, Euron led them through the streets of King’s Landing. They were all empty. Only a few beggars swarmed around, shivering in the stinging cold.  A thin layer of snow covered the surroundings. Euron looked around and continued his ride. Harry Strickland, the captain-general of the Golden Company followed him.

“When will we sail North? I can see the weather is getting unfavorable here…”

Euron looks back at him with a sophisticated gaze, raising one brow. “First, you’ll meet our queen. Then we’ll talk.”

They arrive at the City Gates and two guards open the portcullis, heavy doors. Euron is patronising, abrasive, and completely disempathetic. “You are moving like two paralytic women. I’m your future king, old crones. At least one good thing comes out of it. As soon as I’ll wear the crown I’ll hang your heads on the mast of my ship.”

The guards’ faces are expressionless. Euron’s horse fastens to a trot and stops in front of the Red Keep. The black iron banded oak doors open and Euron dismounts his horse, stepping closer to the Iron Throne.

“My queen…” he bobs a curtsy. “I came back as I promised. And I am not alone.” Euron turns around and beckons the captain-general to come inside.

“It is an honor, queen Cersei. I am Harry Strickland, general of the Golden Company.”

“The honor is mine, general. Thank you for coming. I assume lord Greyjoy explained you the reason why he’s brought you to Westeros.”

“He did, Your Grace.”

“I’ve heard tales about your bravery and the reputation of never breaking a contract, which is quite uncommon among mercenary organizations.”

“Your Grace, we are the best and largest sellsword company in the Free Cities, a large private army for hire. We’ve lived like that for more than a century.”

“I know that, my lord. That’s why I wanted to hire you. I know your fighting skills are beyond comparison. You’re the most fit to fight Dothraki savages and mindless eunuchs with killing instincts.”

“The most fit?” the general steps closer, but The Mountain comes on, ready to draw his sword. Harry stops and looks at the beast, smirking. Euron looks between the two of them with an amused smile in the corner of his lips. The general continues pointing at Gregor Clegane: “This jumbo is just a pawn on my chess table. I could take him down without even blink. [sigh] Dothraki and Unsullied. Under the command of a Targaryen bitch. I don't think a pair of tits will be a thorn in my toe. This task will be dead easy for us.”

Cersei smiles evilly and narrows her eyes. “That’s great news, my lord. The exact thing I wanted to hear.”

 

* * *

 

**Winterfell**

Two days passed since Tormund gave them the grave news and people were in an alert most of the time. Children were training with spears and swords, women practiced archery and old men loaded the walls with barrels of oil. Fire kills wights and they needed all the oil they could get.

Sansa had a meeting with the majority of the northern lords and shared with them the forthcoming danger. Maester Wolkan sent ravens to Karhold and Last Hearth. Ned Umber and Alys Karstark traveled back home after the King in the North sailed to Dragonstone. They needed to gather all the men they could get and return to Winterfell. Now was imperative for them to come back. Their houses will be the first ones struck by the Night King.

“Bran, how are you feeling?” Sansa and her brother are sitting by the fire.

“I’m alright. For now…” He looks into her eyes and Sansa feels odd. She blinks and looks away, rubbing her knees.

“How did you know?” Bran awaits for more details, “…about Tormund…about the Wall? How?”

“I saw it. In my last vision. I saw a series of events that happened in the past…” Bran doesn’t want to elaborate. The truth he knows about his brother is something known only by him and Sam. And he wants to keep it that way. “… and then I saw the Night King breaking down Eastwatch. Daenerys’ dragon helped him.” He continues looking now into the fire.

Sansa is intrigued. “How does this thing affect you, Bran? You’ve lain for a couple of days, after your last vision. You’re body was as cold as ice… This Three-Eyed Raven thing is …[sigh]”

“This is my faith, Sansa. I lost my legs, but I’ve learnt to fly…” Sansa breathes heavier and her gaze is deep. This is not the Bran she knew once.

A horn blows outside Winterfell. Once. That means only one thing…

Sansa leaps and stands up staring at the door. “Jon. He’s back.”

 

* * *

 

The East Gates open. Arya is standing on the balcony, her heart pounding in her chest. People start to cheer as they see Jon Snow. “Our king is back!” He is the first one to enter on horseback, followed by lord Manderly and the queen. They stop in the middle of the courtyard and Jon dismounts his horse. A long moment of silence replaces the previous joy as the northerners see Daenerys alighting from her caballine. Her silver hair was the first hint of who she was.

Jon senses the tension rising and sees a few people looking up at the balcony. As soon as he turns around, his eyes meet Arya’s looking down at him, her mouth slightly gaped. She is on the verge of crying.

New emotions are flowing through Jon’s body as he sees his little sister after so many years. He thought she’s dead all this time. He thought he’s never going to see her again.

Trailing towards the top of the stairs, Arya’s eyes never leave his. She can see her own breath in the freezing cold.

Walking slowly down the wooden stairs, her hand slips over the icy handrail and she finally reaches the ground. She can’t believe it. Her brother is there in front of her, only a few feet distance between them.

Arya stops for a moment and the people gather around them. The next moment is completely overwhelming. Both hasten toward each other and Jon opens his arms. She clings to him, tears falling from her eyes continuously. “My brother…” she’s uttering between sobs, while Jon holds her tight into his arms.

His breaths are shallow, rapid. Tears start to burn his eyes and he lets them free, running down his cheeks. Closing his eyes tightly shut, Jon kisses her temple once, before they break the embrace to look at each other again. Scanning carefully her face, Jon smiles beamingly and lifts his sister up in the air, spinning her around. She gives a gleeful chuckle and everyone smiles around them.

“My little sister…” His fingers trace her face and then Jon pulls her into his embrace once more. “I thought you were dead…”

Arya looks up at her brother. “I wasn’t alive either…”

Jon is pained and looks at her tender-hearted. He cannot imagine what she’s been through all these years. “You’re back home now…” He kisses her forehead and catches sight of Bran smiling at him from across the courtyard.

Maester Wolkan is pushing the crippled boy toward him and Arya. The wheelchair halts in front of him and Bran looks at his half-brother with a slightly smiling face. “Jon…”

Jon stoops down and contemplates him for a while. His heart is aching. He remembers the days when Bran was a ‘whole’ child. The last time Jon saw him, he was joining the Night’s Watch and Bran was unconscious, never getting the chance to tell his little brother a proper ‘Good bye’.

“I’ve missed you…” he says looking into Bran’s eyes. They share a hug, but Jon feels the coldness in his brother's touch.

“Me too… We need to talk, Jon.” Bran’s face is neutral. Serious.

Jon smiles, but notices that he is different. Something changed. “Of course. We will…”

From afar, Sansa approaches them and Jon stands, wrapping his arms around her. She looks at Daenerys with solidity, but her eyes burn with mistrust.

“Welcome back!” she fakes a tiny smile.

“Thank you, Sansa.” Jon looks around and sees the walls’ reinforcements. “I see you’ve been quite busy here.”

Her look of concern is mingled with stoicism. “We need to talk, Jon.”

“Of course, but before that…” Jon looks at Daenerys and she steps forward. He makes the introductions. “May I present you queen Daenerys of House Targaryen.”

His siblings slightly bow their heads and Sansa comes even closer. She looks carefully at her Targaryen features and gulps, feeling somehow strange in her presence.

The queen was indeed a beauty. A rare beauty actually. Sansa could tell she is very young, but yet so royal and imposing.

“Queen Daenerys… Welcome to Winterfell! It is our honor to have you here into our home. We are thankful for your efforts and willing to come to our aid.”

“Thank you, my lady. The honor is mine.” Her elegant smile is captivating. Jon stares at her lovingly, forgetting about the others gathered around them.

The scrape of leather boots on fresh snow, snaps him from his daydreaming. Arya is standing in front of the queen, her face enigmatic and emotionless.

Her look surprises Jon. It is the look of an assassin misleading the victim just before the attack.

Finally a gentle smile appears on Arya’s face. “Your Grace…” she bows, “I am Arya Stark, Jon’s sister. Welcome!”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“I am afraid that title is more suitable for my sister. Please, just call me Arya.”

Tyrion looks at Sansa with a squint from afar. He comes closer and stands near his queen.

“Lady Sansa. Long time no see… You’ve changed.”

“Lord Tyrion…” she greets him, “I think we both did…” And for a while they look at each other, before he turns his attention to Bran.

“Brandon Stark…” Tyrion bears up to him and both shake hands. “I am glad to see you alive and well. You’re now the lord of Winterfell.”

“I am not.” Tyrion narrows his eyes. “I can’t be…”

Jon observantly watches his brother. Before this moment gets more awkward than it already is, Sansa intercedes. “Jon…” she clears her throat. “Familial issues could be dealt later.”

He looks back at Daenerys. “You're right. We need some rest.”

“Of course. We have prepared quarters in the Great Keep. "We'll have baths drawn for you all.” her eyes settle on the queen. “ When supper is ready I'll make sure it will be sent to your chamber, Your Grace.”

Before Daenerys could answer, a flapping sound was heard and something huge cast a great shadow upon the entire area. People looked up and gasped as they saw a dragon flying overhead. It was Drogon in all his mightiness arriving at Winterfell. Behind him, Rhaegal flied in the high sky, touching the clouds with his wide wings.

Drogon’s screeching sounds made everyone cover their ears. Rhaegal was already flying lower, following his brother on the open field. Some men could see them scorching a great portion of the land outside the walls and then settling down on the ashy ground for a nap. They all gathered to see the magnificent creatures, people gasping with astonishment. Dragons were more like legends, gone for more than thirty decades. Everyone knew that and yet they couldn't believe their eyes.

The Starks were all looking at Daenerys open-mouthed. Even Sansa, who seemed to master herself had now different feelings etched on her face. The only person with a calm and steady look was Bran.

Daenerys’ counselors surrounded her. The Unsullied and the Dothraki horde could be seen setting up camp outside Winterfell. People heard stories about them and their atrocities. They were afraid.

“We should go inside for a few moments. And talk.” Bran’s voice draws their attention.

Jon nods. “Alright. Everyone wants to talk. Let’s talk.”


	4. "A Dragon in the North" - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a strained moment between Daenerys, Jon, Sansa and the northern lords. People are judging the queen and she bends over backwards to remain composed and stoic. Euron and Cersei engage into intimacy as reminiscences of her past with Jaime hunt her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠ This story has mature content and/or profanity ⚠

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Daenerys, Jon and his siblings, Davos and all the queen’s advisors found themselves in the council room, taking seats around the table. Jorah and Tyrion watched their queen as a long moment of stillness floated around the room.

In the following moments, a knock comes at the door and Jon breaks the silence.

“Enter!”

As soon as the door opens, Jon fleetingly stands up, looking at it with protruding eyes. Tormund comes into sight and the atmosphere becomes tense as the king sees Sansa scarcely breathing.

“Tormund. What are you doing here?” Immediately after, Sam follows the wildling inside. “Sam… what are you two—“

“We have grave news…” Sansa proceeds and the others follow her direction. Daenerys already anticipates what comes next. Bran moves himself with the wheelchair near Sam.

“The Night King is on his way here…”

Jon watches his brother’s lips moving, but the shock envelops his senses. “What?”

“He crossed. That fucker destroyed Eastwatch.” Tormund continues. “Lots of crows died when the Wall was smashed. I survived… That’s why I’m here. Your friend, the new Lord Commander will arrive here soon with all the men he has left.”

Jon’s eyes are wide open, his heart thudding into his chest. “How? When did this happen?”

“Shortly after you set sail. I saw him.” Bran responds with a low voice.

Jon moves closer towards his brother, his face covered by a haze. “You saw him?”

“Bran has… visions.” Sansa explains. Jon looks with stupor from his sister back at his brother.

“It is very difficult to explain right now. We must be ready. The Night King saw me in my last vision. He will surely arrive here in a few days.”

“How on Earth did the Night King make it past the Wall that soon?! We are far from being ready! Seven hells!” Jon flushes angrily and hits his fist on the table, frustration making a few veins popping out of his forehead.

Bran set his face towards Daenerys. Jon was hit by reality. He closed his eyes slowly, dread and pain amalgamating together inside his body. How could he ignore this all along? The look he had on his face, when he turned and his eyes met hers, utterly breached her heart in a split second. She let out a short breath and her eyes filled with tears.

“Viserion…” This is the only thing she could spell.

[…]

Later that evening, the lords of northern houses gathered together in the Great Hall. Lyanna Mormont, Robett Glover and Yohn Royce were sitting on a bench in the front row. At the long table, Daenerys sat between Jon and Arya. Missandei, Greyworm and lieutenant Qhono stood behind their queen and Davos took his place next to Brienne of Tarth. Tormund stared at her, but the lascivious look he once had was replaced by a broody one.

 Sansa and Bran were sitting at the left side of the table. They all waited for the racket to stop and everyone to sit down. Once they were all settled, Jon stood up.

“The King in the North has returned!” lord Glover shouts and the men start dabbing their fists on the table in a rhythmic motion.

“Welcome, my lords and ladies! As you well know, a few weeks ago I decided to set sail to Dragonstone.” Jon looks down at Daenerys, “Here we are now, together, united against our common enemy. Our queen is offering us her support and—“

“Our queen?” lord Manderly interrupts, looking fiercely at him.

Jon and Sansa lock eyes. “[sigh] Well, since my sister didn’t inform you yet… I will. Queen Daenerys allowed us to mine the Dragonglass and she has proved she’s an honorable woman.” Jon pauses and draws in a deep breath. “Due to circumstances and the fact that she became a trusted ally, I pledged myself to her.”

A wave of clamor fills the Great Hall in a few instants. Lord Glover stands, brawling. “You say you handed over the North to a foreign invader?! Are you mad, boy?! Have you forgotten what Targaryens did to our people?!”

“Watch your mouth, my lord!”

“You left Winterfell to make an alliance with her and we all agreed to your decision in spite of our believes. Now you’ve brought this woman here, into our lands and you expect us to bow in front of her, just because you saw a pretty pair of tits?!”

Jon draws out Long Claw and dashes towards the old man, pointing the sword at him. “I told you to watch your mouth! You’re the one to talk! Or you think I forgot how you refused to fight against the Boltons and stood back with your tail between your legs?” The room is in a complete silence. Daenerys can see all the judgemental looks bent on her. “I am not playing, lord Glover… This is serious.” Jon’s eyes shoot daggers at him. “If we keep being engaged in fighting and brawling with each other, now that the Night King marches to Winterfell… then _we’re fucked_.”

“We are fucked anyway. That traitor little imp who’s standing by her side now betrayed his own family. How do you expect to trust such people?” Tyrion tries to stuff his words down his throat. He looks visibly annoyed.

Just before he could voice his indignation, Daenerys stands up and comes forth, her hands clenched in a lower position. An unflinching determination is incised on her face as she watches the stubborn angry men, raising against their leader.

“Enough!” Now she had their complete attention. “I didn’t come here to provoke this unpleasant and unfortunate moment. Your king came to me for help. I asked him to swear fealty to me and he refused. I could have hanged him, burn him alive, ask Quono here to cut his head off. But I didn’t. I know you hate me, but—“

“Hate you?” lord Manderly steps closer, “Your kind has brought chaos to Westeros long before you were even born, lady. Your father was the pure evil. We heard about your actions in Slaver’s Bay. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree after all… That boy…” he says pointing at Sam, “…do you know him? Of course not. You burned his father alive alongside with his brother in the Battle of the Goldroad.” Sam looks at the old man stupefied. As does Jon. “Yes, lad! Now you know. Your father is dead because of this woman.”

Sam never cared for his father after everything he’s put him through. But still it pained him to know his brother had such a terrible death.

“All I did was justice…” she continues.

An incredulous gasp leaves Manderly’s mouth. “Justice? As your father did? And his father?”

“Randyll Tarly and his son chose to support Cersei Lannister and betrayed their former ‘queen’. Thanks to their betrayal, House Tyrell found its end forever. _There’s no justice in the world unless we’ll make it…_ ”

Sansa stares at the queen with her mouth open wide. She knew well those words.

“You don’t know me, my lord and yet here you are, standing in front of me and judging me… You are right. My father was evil. You all suffered because of his madness and no apology will ever blot out that.” Jon looked at her in awe and each one of those men blabbing about her earlier sat down and continued to listen.

“Still, it is not fair to judge children for their father’s sins. I was also a victim of his insanity. I fled from this continent when I was just a baby, when Robert Baratheon chose to punish every Targaryen he could find. You say you heard about ‘my atrocities’ in Essos. But do you really know why there’s peace in Mereen now? In Astapor? Yunkai? Because I offered the people a better chance. And that’s why I returned here. I’m not here to conquer the North and invade your lands.”

 “She is right.” Jon says. “We must work together in order to destroy the army of the dead and I repeated this a dozen times before. Let’s put aside our differences and bound together! This is not about family names and oaths anymore! Daenerys came to my aid when I was beyond the Wall. You all probably heard why I went there. One of her dragons died. The same dragon resurged by the Night King.” Murmurs could be heard. The men seemed to appease and listen without any other complaints. “We need all the forces we can get and we had to persuade Cersei Lannister to fight alongside us.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but that woman is not to be trusted!” Lord Royce stands up, “We told your sister and we’re telling the same thing to you.”

 

* * *

 

** King’s Landing **

“Step aside, you beast. I want to talk to the queen.”

The Mountain stands in front of Euron. He can see the sickly skin of Gregor Clegane under his helmet and those frightening red eyes fixed on his tiny stature.

“Let him in.” Cersei’s voice resounds through the door. The big bouncer gets out of Euron’s way and lets him pass. The Lord of the Iron Islands gives him a scornful look and enters Cersei’s chamber.

“My queen…”

“What do you want?”

“[sigh] What do I want?” his cocky attitude comes out, “I want you to give me what you promised.”

“Hmm… What exactly is that?” she asks him with a pitch look on her face.

Euron comes closer and Gregor is ready to draw out his sword. “I want you…” he whispers as he leans forward and looks into her eyes. “I’ve given you what you wanted. The greatest and largest fleet in Westeros; I delivered the Golden Company at your shores and… most of all, I gave you my loyalty, which is a great deal from an ironborn.” His brow furrows and Euron gazes at her, his look stetly. “So… you had plenty of time to consider my request.”

Cersei smirks and gestures The Mountain to get out. Moving behind Euron, she traces his back with her fingers and stops near her bedchamber. Locking eyes with him, Cersei unthreads the strings of her gown and lets it slip on the floor.

Euron studies her naked body from head to toe and smiles lasciviously. “You are as gorgeous as I heard.” In a swift move he grabs her by the waist and pulls her into his arms. A muffled groan escapes his mouth when Cersei kisses him. He pushes the queen with truculence on her bed and undresses himself. “I bet you’ve never seen a cock like mine before.” He slops over her naked body and whispers into her ear: “…and it’s all yours.”

Parting her legs, Euron grabs his manhood and thrusts it inside her roughly. One strained breath comes out of her mouth, the sudden penetration causing a slight lack of air in her lungs. Cersei feels some sort of sharp pain as his shoves become deeper. She squeezes her eyes shut and stifled sounds hook her throat.

“Look at me…” Cersei slowly opens her eyes and sees Euron’s reddened face. “This is something you should always remember…” he whispers between heavy breaths and then licks her face. “I’ve never thought that fucking you could be so good…”

Cersei stares at the ceiling, her face blank. A memory of Jaime flashes in her mind. _I will kill the whole bloody lot of them, until you and I are the only two people left in this world._ A few tears wet her cheekbone and dribble on her bedsheets.

 

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** Winterfell **

“We cannot trust that shrew! Cersei Lannister is as insane as the Mad King was!” one of the northern lords shouts.

The whole room fills with bustle. Tyrion decides to speak. “I talked to my sister, my lords. She won't pull back her army. She saw with her own eyes what’s coming for all of us.”

“Hmph! You might be smart, but you’re a fool.” Lord Royce comments. “Your sister is not the woman you knew when you fled Westeros… You have no idea what she’s done all these years!”

“Believe me, lord Yohn, I do know! I was the one she wanted to see dead for years!” Tyrion turns his head and looks at Daenerys. “She’s pregnant… she will do anything to protect her children.” Daenerys felt a tug at her heart strings as her Hand mentioned a bairn. An innocent life took roots inside a wicked woman’s womb.

Another wave of disquietude bursts and Sansa stands. “Jon, that woman won’t help us! I know her! She’s plotting something!”

“Sansa, enough! We’ve talked about this!”

“Jon, please for once in your life, listen to me!”

“I don’t want to hear more of this nonsense!” he shouts angrily. “I’m not concerned with Cersei now! We need to make a plan and we’re wasting time on this damn theme!”

“What about her?” Sansa’s eyes are fixed on Daenerys. “ She shouldn’t be here, Jon!”

His eyes shoot daggers at his sister. “Sansa—“

“Her father murdered our grandfather. Our uncle. Her brother destroyed our aunt’s life. Why did you bring her here, Jon?” Sansa refrained her words and hate for too long.

Daenerys looks at her and inhales deeply. “And you…” Sansa looks at Tyrion. “You decided to support a foreigner in order to survive? I thought you’re better than that, my lord.”

“Lady Sansa—“

“I’m not interested to hear anything you have to say. Your family made my life a living hell. There is nothing you could say and change my mind about your sister.” Sansa steps closer to Tyrion, loathe embossed on her face. “I know she won’t be true to her word. I know she awaits to destroy us…” She turns in Jon’s direction, “…and if you believe her, this war is already lost.” Sansa works her way through the crowd and gets out of the Great Hall.

Jon can see Daenerys on the verge of tears. She didn’t expect so much hate from them all. Jon was right when he said the northerners won’t accept a southern ruler.

“I think this is enough for today. Tomorrow we’ll discuss the plans and prepare for the worst. Get some rest everyone! We need to gather all the strength we can find within.”

The room was cluttered for a few moments, people moving untidily outside the door.

“Arya, where is Littlefinger?” Jon asks.

“That bastard betrayed us. He’s dead.” She answers frankly.

“What?”

“He tried to bring discord between us. Bran discovered the truth.”

“The truth?! What are you talking about?”

“He’s the one who started the conflict between us and the Lannisters.” Bran starts, “He was always swinging both ways… he betrayed father. And mother. He lied about everything…”

Jon’s face contorted with rage. “I should have killed that bastard when I had the chance!”

“This is the dagger meant to kill Bran.” Arya takes it out from its sheath and shows it to her brother. “It’s valyrian steel.”

Jon traces the blade with his fingers. “Where did you get this?”

“Littlefinger gave it to me.” Bran continues.

“And I killed him with it…” Arya’s eyes are unreadable. Jon stares at his sister with astonishment. “You? Killed him?”

“I’m not the little girl you once knew, brother. I changed. We all did…” Taking the dagger from Jon’s hand, Arya looks once at Bran and then she sets her eyes on Daenerys. “Don’t be too bothered, Your Grace. My sister is complicated. She’s been through a lot and life made her a tough woman. Cersei taught her well after all. _A wolf raised by lions..._ ” Arya ducks her head and walks herself over to the door.

 

* * *

 

The day passed quickly. A chamber near the king’s was arranged for Daenerys to settle in. She looked outside from her window at the snowflakes falling over the ground. Drogon and Rhaegal were both flying overhead, winnowing the dancing feathery ice crystals around. She watched as a large bonfire was ignited outside the walls and how the dothraki gathered around it.

The queen couldn't take her mind of her third child. Reminiscences of her early days in Essos, when her dragon eggs hatched and her children were born, they all came flooding her mind.

The room was in a complete silence. She could hear only the sparks coming out from the fireplace.

[knock][knock]

“Yes?”

The door opens inward and Jon enters her chamber. He looks at her standing by the window and closes the door behind him. Daenerys turns around.

“Are you alright, my queen?” She nods. Jon comes closer and takes her hand into his, kissing it. “[sigh] I am so sorry… " Both stand there in front of one another, Jon boring into her. She meets his gaze, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "This is all my fault. I should have thought the Night King will -"

"No. It's alright. This is no one's fault. Some things just... happen." Even thoughtful and unhappy, he still looks ruggedly handsome. Leaning in, Daenerys plants a light kiss on his cheek.

"My people..."

“It's alright. I understand their behavior." she utters with a bland voice.

"I know they are stubborn folks, but I’m sure they’ll love you. Give them some time…”

Daenerys smiles gently and caresses his cheek. "My entire life, I had more than my fair share of damage. People tried to harm me since I was just a babygirl. My family was…[sigh]” She can’t finish her sentence, for her words are sinking beneath uncontrollable sobs.

Jon embraces her. “Shh…It’s alright. We’re together now. Don’t cry…” He lifts her chin and places a suave kiss on her lips. “Look at me, Dany… We knew this is not going to be easy. It will get even worse, but we need to remain strong. This is the only way for us to stay alive.”

“I know… it’s just… it pains me to see this world the way it is now. I never counted on this… _us_. I… I am scared, Jon.”

“I know you are. I am too… but let’s enjoy life while it lasts.” His brown eyes are mesmerizing. She always feels like drowning each time she looks into their depth. Leaning slowly forward, Jon kisses her gently, breathing in her scent.

Intoxicated with each other’s essence, both start to forget about the outside world and let their feelings flow.

Daenerys feels his scarce breath and something inside her being blooms so deeply, an unbridled feeling of desire making her bold. She eases her hands down his belly to his bulging erection and cups it gently, feeling him through the thick leathery fabric.

Jon lets out a throaty groan. Her touch is so delightful, her eyes so enticing and full of passion. But still, he can see more in their profoundness. She doesn’t speak out loud, but that deep feeling inside of her takes shape in the color of her eyes, her pupils, her retinas…

Yanking her against him, Jon kisses her with a fervent urgent need, which scorches her entire skin. She is a dragon. She always was and fire could never harm her body, but still his touch is melting her insides in this very moment.

She meets his kiss with the same desire, already imagining the feeling of him dipping inside her. Her lips are like poison; deadly entrancing and sweeter than any godly nectar in this world. Any rational thought leaves his mind. There is no responsibility, no Night King, no war… just _her_ , the love of his life, the woman he’s willing to die for if needed.

Jon’s hands tangle in her hair as Daenerys melts into him. He unbuttons her gown’s bodice and one of his hands cups her breast. She hoists her chest against him in response, longing for the touch of his mouth. But instead, Jon undresses himself and stands in front of her. His eyes are dark, their irises glowing with lust. “Take off your dress…” he says with a mellow voice.

She does as she’s been told and in the meantime, her eyes jam on his lower body. Instinctively, she leads her hand to her mouth, and her forefinger brushes against her lips. Jon takes her hand in his and kisses each one of her fingers, before she grazes his chest with her nails. Moving in a sluggish motion behind him, she draws a line across his skin and her hand lingers for a while longer just above the groove of his bum.

Jon’s body is vibrating with incontinence. In the moment she reaches his hand, Jon feels as if a tidal surge hits him and knocks him to the ground. Her breath skimming along his shoulder, her bosom toadying his arm, her pudenda tickling his thigh… This is already too much.

He turns around, encircles her waist and lifts her up, her legs and arms wrapping around him, both clinging close together. Jon feels her slit wetting the root of his manhood and squeezes her buttocks with great desire. Their lips are rattening to crumble one another.

That despair, that need behind their kisses is so incomprehensible. Both feel like they found the other half, like an androgynous seeking its entirety and finding it at last.

Sitting on the bed, with his queen on his lap, Jon lets his hands tailing the length of her spine and down her hips, his fingers digging in her silky skin. Daenerys uses her hand to slip him evenly inside of her, both moaning as his member outlines her aching depth.

Once she feels him deeper, reaching her narrowness, she begins a slow rotation of her hips. The moves are smooth and fluid. Dany watches him drawing in deep long breaths and feels the way his organ distends her, stroking her sensitive spots and making her lose control. With one hand, Daenerys pins him to the bed and places his hands on her hips, pressing them tightly above her pelvic bones.

Jon closes his eyes and feels her rocking atop him, ecstasy enveloping him, drawing him in, feeling like he’s about to burst wide open. They made love before, but never like this. This felt like something special inside her, something enchanting was slowly working its way through his organ into him. Their bond was beyond love and passion.

He curls up and in an instant, Daenerys plunges into the mattress, her eyes wide open. Propping himself up with his upper body hovered over her, Jon looks lustily into her eyes, his gaze so compelling and impending to devour her whole. His hips start to move in a slow slackening motion, creating fluttery sensations inside her core. She throws her head back into the pillow, long and louder moans overspreading around, with each shove.

Her whimpers make his arousal stronger. His veins throb and his heart blasts inside him like a powder keg. He has never wanted anyone like this before. Ever.

Dany pulls him down against her chest, her eyes begging for his buss. A groan stifles inside his throat and her mouth takes him over the moon once more. He’s narcotized by her taste.

His stubbly face rubs her skin, but she doesn’t care. Jon drives himself deeper and harder.

“Jon!” she squeals.  

He stops at once and kisses her tenderly. “I’m sorry…” his hand strokes her chin so softly. “I’m sorry, my love… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Daenerys shakes her head and smiles. “No, it’s alright… You didn’t.” She feels him moving harmoniously again, his thrusts being so exceedingly luscious.

 “I love you…” these words poured out of his mouth in a heartfelt way, it even surprised him.

Daenerys is breathless, her heart beating swiftly in her chest. “And I you…” His lips melt into hers again and hot tears bathe her temples. “I love you, Jon Snow…”

Their love-making was unbelievably sweet, tender and wondrous. He kissed her tears away and embedded himself inside her body with ardor, never wanting to let her go. She was his soulmate, there was no doubt in his heart. He loved her dearly and was determined to survive; to win this war and build a family with her. She told him she can’t have children, but his greater hope was to offer her the most precious gift. Surely someday…

 


	5. "A Dragon in the North" - Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In King's Landing, Cersei goes through a difficult moment. Jon and Daenerys share some confidences. Meanwhile, Gendry and Arya reunite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠ This story has mature content and/or profanity ⚠

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**King’s Landing**

Cersei wakes up and sees Euron Greyjoy is still asleep. Her body is full of exudation and pain scrapes her lower abdomen. She sits bolt upright and feels an uncomfortable, cold and wet sensation beneath her.

Throwing the covers aside, her eyes widen with horror. A long scream leaves her mouth and she starts crying. Euron jumps out of bed and the Mountain rushes inside the chamber, looking right at his queen.

“What the fuck is that?!” Euron looks stupefied at the pool of red blood spread out on the sheets.

The Mountain takes Cersei into his arms and storms outside. Everything is spinning around her.

Entering Qyburn’s cabinet, Gregor lays her on the bed. “My queen…” Her Hand hastens and grabs a blanket. In the moment he sees the blood on her thighs, his shoulders are sagging.

He knows. Cersei just lost her child.

** Winterfell **

Dany wakes up and the first thing she sees is Jon’s sleeping face. He is so handsome, his lips so supple and alluring. They lay entwined in each other's arms and she can’t help but smile.

This is something she always craved for. A loving man and at the same time a warrior, a survivor… a _real_ man, not just somebody who pretends to be one. Jon is her _perfect match_.

She was in the acme of happiness last night, something very different taking deep roots inside her body. It felt like Jon is forestalling her whole being, setting her ablaze and wringing her heart with every touch.

With a caress far more gentle than any silk, she touches his face, his neck, his chest contouring each one of his scars and breathing in his scent.

Jon slowly opens his eyelids at the feeling of her touch. He gazes at her dainty body and a warm smile is shaping up on his lovely face. “Good morning, _my queen_.”

She smiles back. “Good morning, _my king_ …” Both share an affectionate kiss and then, for a while longer, she rests her head on his chest.

“Jon…?”

“Yes?”

The queen looks up at him and her cheeks turn crimson. “Nothing… forget it.” she nestles in his arms again with a chirpy wag of the head.

“Tell me…” his fingertips skim across her shoulders, up her neck and earlobe and she feels how her skin prickles.

“I was wondering… the thing you did on the ship and last night…” a flush of embarrassment rises to her face again and for a moment she hesitates, unsure if she should continue. Jon on the other hand is stirred, for he surmises what she wants to say. He’s changing his position, so that he can look into her eyes.

“What thing?” his keen eye gives her the butterflies.

“ _That_ thing… with your mouth. No man has ever done that to me before.”

“Mmm… should I be worried, Your Grace?” Dipping down, Jon seizes her mouth, his tongue tenderly indulging her lips.

“About what?” she mumbles, a soppy smile on her face.

“If there’s some man claiming you belong to him, then he will be disappointed.” Both smile.

“No…” she shakes her head and he’s utterly spellbound by her glistening sapphire blue eyes. “After my husband, I had only one lover. But that’s in the past.”

“You didn’t love him?” Jon’s look is soft.

“No, I did not. And that scared me to be honest. I thought I won’t be capable of loving someone else. Ever…”

Jon gazes at her for a few more moments.

“Well… I had only one woman in my life before you.”

“What? You? That’s impossible.” she giggles.

“It’s not. I had no time for romance… My life was not all cakes and rainbows either. Being a bastard was never easy, nor being a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch. I broke one of my vows there, beyond the Wall. When I was a captive of the wildlings, I fell for one woman. She was my first and only woman until now…”

“Was…?”

“[sigh] Yes. She died a few years ago…”

“I’m sorry… you must have loved her very much.”

“I cared for her. I thought I loved her, but… I betrayed her. I returned to Castle Black, to my brothers… shortly after that, the wildlings attacked us and she was killed.” Daenerys observes him carefully, tender-hearted, understanding the pain he had to endure. She also knew grief, but she wore it well. “After so many years, I never thought that meeting you will turn my world upside-down.” Jon proceeds while caressing her hair.

Daenerys beams at him, her eyes gleaming with love. Her hand eases his chest and touches the scar above his heart.

“You said once that… you will tell me about these scars.”

Jon breathes in deeply, knowing this subject might be quite disturbing. “As you well know, I became Lord Commander after Jeor Mormont died and… before that I was a captive of the wildlings. Their leader, Mance Rayder was once a brother of the Night’s Watch. He betrayed Mormont and went beyond the Wall. In time, he managed to unify all the clans: the thenns, the hornfoots, the giants, the Ice-river clans and cave people. Mance gathered them together for one single purpose: survival.  Living among them, I’ve learned that they are also normal people like we are.” Jon smirks. “ _The kneelers…_ That’s how they used to call those south of the Wall… Knowing what’s out there and the fact that they might all die, I… my decision was to help them. Mance was a proud man and because of his pride, hundreds of his people died.” He looks at Daenerys and kisses her before he proceeds. “That day at Dragonstone, you told me the same thing I told Mance before he died. Then and there I knew everything will be different between us both…”

“You are stubborn. Very…” both smile, “…but I admired you from the first moment I saw you. I’ll never forget the way you defied me.”

“[chuckles] Aye. I’ll never forget how intimidating you were… When I first laid my eyes on you…” he touches her lips with tenderness, “… I thought there’s no woman in this world possessing the same beauty. Impossible…”

Leaning closer, Dany kisses him passionately. Her mouth rouses his desires again, but she breaks the kiss. Their breaths are more labored.

“You were telling me about these…” she whispers, her eyes closed and her hands roaming slowly over his torso.

“If you keep touching me like this, I think I won’t be able to talk anymore...” His lips brush hers in a slow pattern, before she interrupts him.

“Tell me…”

“[sigh] Well, as I told you… Mance eventually died and I wanted to help his men; to put aside our wars and join together. I fought the wights at Hardhome and lots of the wildlings died. When I came back at Castle Black… a lot of my brothers hated me for my decision. And… they called me a traitor…”

Daenerys sees the uncertainty on his face. “Go on…”

“They…killed me.”

She swallows once, trying to understand the meaning of his words. “…killed you?”

Jon nods. “I died… the knife that pierced my heart…” he touches the scar and looks at her afraid she might think he’s mad, “A Red Priestess brought me back from the dead.”

Daenerys is staggered. “Melisandre?”

Jon narrows his eyes. “Yes… How do you know about her?”

“She came to me one day, after I arrived at Dragonstone. She was the one who told me about you. The one who advised me to summon you. [sigh] But… how? How is this possible?”

“She said that the Lord of Light wants me alive, but… I don’t know why.”

“You were dead…” her hand cups his face and tears glisten in her eyes.

“You believe me?”

“Of course I do. I doubted you once and I will never make the same mistake again.”

Jon sighs with relief. “Thank Gods… I was afraid you might think I’m a mad man.”

“Never. You know I love you…” she mumbles.

And then, he kisses her. Once. Twice. Slowly and then with more yearning. In the end none of them could let the other go.

They are so close again, their bodies are touching, embraced in a clasp.  His body coming alive feels like an ecstasy shot coursing her own body. The touch of his hand slipping between her firm thighs and trailing her damp is so heady. She whimpers when his digits pamper her little bundle.

“Jon… Please…” she whispers salaciously, her blue eyes wide open and pleading.

And he couldn’t let her plead again. He made love to her in that very instant.

[…]

Once Jon rolled off, breaking their connection, she nestled into his arms. His chest was rising and falling as he regained his breath, their bodies limp from passion-filled indulgence.

 

* * *

 

 

Children are gathered in the courtyard, training with spears and swords. Lyanna Mormont watches closely as Jorah speaks with some of the Unsullied. She has never met her cousin, but she knew about his betrayal and disgraceful actions.

Jorah looks up at her, standing on the balcony. They lock eyes, but the young lady has a resentful glance and moves away.

Near the armory, a young man helps the blacksmith with the obsidian weapons. Arya comes out from the Great Keep and notices his stature. She steps closer, uncertainty in her eyes. He’s not facing her, but he seems so familiar. She could have sworn that she has seen the lad somewhere.

When he turns around to pick a hammer from the table, Arya freezes. He peeks at her, not paying attention at who she really is, but in the next second, reality hits him like a lightning bolt.

Setting his eyes on her once more, his breath comes out in a short but deep sigh.

“Gendry…?” Arya’s eyes are locked on him with a blank stare, her pupils dilated.

“Arya…” A small smile creeps in the corner of his lips, astoundment darting out from his eyes. He drops the hammer and rushes to embrace _his lady._

“You’re alive!” Her arms are wrapped around him tightly and she giggles with incredulity in her voice. Gendry looses hold of her and both share a beaming smile. “What are you doing here? I thought you’re dead!” she smites his shoulder with a light hit.

“I’m quite alive, as you can see. I came here for these.” He points to the pile of spears and daggers made of Dragonglass. "How about you, my lady? I haven’t heard from you since then.” He blinks while studying her from head to toe. “You’ve grown.”

“And you’ve aged.” Both chuckle. “The Red Woman… that day when she took you…”

Gendry shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter. Not anymore… I’m alive thanks to Davos. He saved my life twice. A few weeks ago, he introduced me to your brother. And now I’m here…"

“Why I didn’t see you with the others, when they arrived? With my brother…?”

“Ah… that. Well, I was outside the walls; helping the others to make camp. That’s why you didn’t see me. I came here quite late at night.”

Arya nods. “Alright then. I am so happy you are alive and well… and here…” the emotion is portrayed in her voice. “ Glad to have you back. We need to swing some swords later.” She says, warding off backwards and looking at Gendry with a smiley face.

“You still have that tiny sword?” he laughs.

“It’s Needle. And yes, I still have it.” Arya turns on her heels and makes her way to the crypts, waving at him.

Gendry lets his glance rest on her, until she is completely out of sight.


	6. "A Dragon in the North" - Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A meeting takes place in the council room. Jon discusses battle plans with the others and important decisions are being made. Tension rises between certain characters and soon the situation becomes inimical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠ This story has mature content and/or profanity ⚠

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The king's steps trump along the hallway, his shadow expanding as he turns the corner towards the council room. He runs into Sam, who's initial thought was to pay him a visit.

"Sam..." Jon embraces his friend.

"Your Grace..." he bows, pursing his mouth in a facetious smirk. Jon looks away, both laughing as Jon places a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"You never change, my friend. Anyway, I'm on my way to the council room. Join me."

Sam nods. "I wanted to talk to you privately before the meeting, but I guess that can wait a while longer."

"What is the question in hand?" Jon asks him as both head to the council chamber.

"Nevermind." Sam wreaths in smiles. "We have time afterwards."

"Alright then. We still haven't had the chance to duly talk since I arrived. How are you? How are Gilly and little Sam?"

"We are all well. Thank you..."  

"You know...? I was quite surprised you are here. Why did you leave the citadel?"

"I came here to help you. Being here for my friend is far more important than piles and piles of books."

Jon beams while they stop in front of the door. "I'm happy you are here, my friend. I really am." He pats gently Sam's back before they enter.

 

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 An assembly takes place a few moments later. The queen joins him shortly after, both exchanging affectionate looks. She is followed by her advisors, and the Starks, the last ones being Davos, Tormund and Beric Dondarrion.

A map of Westeros is flat on the large table. Jon discusses the defensive plans and the attack ones with them all.

“The Manderlys and the Free Folk will accompany me in the vanguard-"

“What is he doing here?” Arya steps closer from behind her brother and stands in front of Beric Dondarrion.”

“My lady…” The man bobs a courtesy and smirks at her.

Jon is bewildered. “You two know each other?”

“Yes. We do. Why don’t you tell my brother, how we met… _my lord_?

“I think the king has more important matters to discuss right now.”

Jon squints and looks between the two of them. The tension is palpable and he notices how angry and hostile his sister is towards the man, but he prefers to save the difficult thoughts for later, even though he doesn't like it. Nevertheless, Beric Dondarrion is right. “Indeed, but we’ll discuss this. I'm in an inquiring disposition to know actually.” He locks eyes with Beric, searching for a trace of inquietude. Arya gives him one dead look before she goes back to her seat.

"Alright then. Let's continue... As I said, the Manderly men and the Free Folk will be with me in the vanguard. The rest of the northerners will be a part of the infantry alongside the Unsullied and will take position here around the moats, engaging the dead men directly; they’ll be flanked by dothraki on one side and the knights of the Vale on the other side. The archers will be merely boys and old men, so their place is here, on the north wall. The wights will attack from this side, which gives us the main advantage. We will use the oil barrels to stop them from climbing the walls if they get through the moats. A few dozens have already been arrayed up here afront. Women and girls will stay inside the walls. They will be given daggers and spears.”

"It seems good to me." Tormund comments, "I will lead the fuckers a merry dance."

"You will also be there with me." Jon says to Beric. "Your sword is needed there. And you, Ser Jorah... you are a great warrior. If you wish-"

"If the queen allows me, I wish to stay in her company. Someone must protect her likewise."

“I will lead the dragons.” Daenerys says, “We need to keep Viserion as far away as possible. Your best place is there on the field of battle, Ser Jorah."

“What about Cersei’s bannermen?” Sansa asks, a supercilious look on her face. “As I can see, they haven’t arrived yet.” She ganders at Tyrion, daring him to make a remark.

Jon sighs in annoyance. “Sansa…”

Daenerys can hear Tyrion’s teeth grinding and his jaw clenching. “She will keep her word my lady.” The queen continues, “I don’t trust her either, but she saw that thing and if what lord Tyrion said is true… she is with child.”

“[puff] With all due respect, but I know her better than you or Jon or anyone else.”

“You’re mistaken.” Tyrion goes on, “You have spent a lot of time in the capital. You know what she’s capable of, but you don’t know her better than me, lady Sansa. Family is everything to her. She will do whatever it takes to protect it.”

“Oh really? But let me remind you, my lord. You’re not her family anymore. You’ve never been as you once said. And certainly you don’t know what she’s become.”

“Enough!” Jon spats, “I’m tired of this! We’re bickering like children instead of taking things seriously! When the Lannister army will be here, I’ll apportion them as I did with our armies. We have more than enough weapons to fight against the White Walkers and their soldiers.”

“He’s right.” Bran says, “The last time I saw the Night King, he was riding the dragon.” Daenerys flinches at the mention of her child.

 _Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor. (A dragon is not a slave.)_ These words echoed in her mind and her eyes were misted with tears. She named him by her brother. Viserys was cruel and she hoped at least the dragon carrying his name will do better things for this world. But he was now the slave of death. Lost.

Jon notices the sorrow in her eyes and feels a tremendous need to hold her into his arms and soothe her pain.

“You say you _saw_ the Night King. How?” Tyrion asks.

“Bran has the ability to enter the minds of beings and perceive the world through their senses. He can also control their actions.” Sam explains.

“You’re a warg?” Jon asks with astonishment in his voice.

“Something beyond that. I’m the Three-Eyed Raven.”

“What?” Jon shakes his head, an expression of obfuscation on his face.

“Brynden Rivers…” Tyrion starts, “…a Targaryen bastard of Aegon IV…” Bran nods. “I’ve read about him in _‘The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms’_ … _‘Lord Bloodraven_[’](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Brynden_Rivers#cite_note-Rtss.7B.7B.7B2.7D.7D.7D.7B.7B.7B3.7D.7D.7D-1) as people called him, fought against Daemon Blackfyre in the Battle of Redgrass Field. It was told he possessed the magical ability to perceive future, past or distant events in Green Dreams. Greenseers were much respected by the Children of the Forest…” Tyrion approaches Bran. “You say you are one of them?” Daenerys’ eyes are clamped on her Hand. She also remembers stories about greenseers and their magical abilities. _A thousand eyes, a hundred skins, wisdom deep as the roots of ancient trees._

“I met a warg beyond the Wall.” Jon glares at Tormund, recalling the moment Orell used his power to attack him. His facial scars were a remainder of that. “How is this possible, Bran?”

“I will explain, but later… I need to speak with you anyway.”

Jon nods and Sansa carries on. “We have sent ravens to the Umbers and the Karstarks. Their castles are the first ones on their beam ends. Still, I received no word from them.” She pauses and looks askance at her half-brother. “By the way, Jon… I told Lord Manderly to inform me when you will dock at White Harbour, but I haven’t received any word from him. What happened?”

Jon is baffled. “He did. We’ve sent a raven three days ago.”

“No. That’s not possible. We didn’t receive any other news from you. In the last one you said you are sailing back home. And that was more than two weeks ago, Jon…”

He frowns and mutters a few curses under his breath. “I will talk to him later…”

“Wait.” Bran looks blankly at the table. “You said you have sent ravens to the Karstarks and the Umbers… and Jon sent word a few days ago, but none of those ravens reached their destinations.”

“What?” Sansa asks.

“The cold increased. When I had my last vision… after I saw the Night King beyond the Wall and then breaching it… I felt coldness enveloping me of a sudden. Then I felt nothing; like I fell into a dark abyss, but I was unable to scream or move.”

“What does that mean?” Sansa’s question piques everyone’s interest.

Bran gazes at his sister. “You told me I was unconscious for a few days. I think the raven I warged into died in that freezing cold. That’s why I laid senseless. My body and mind froze as well.”

“That makes sense…” Sam proceeds. “The Night King brings the storm with him. The ravens are not able to travel on this weather… or survive. Not even the white ones…”

“How are we going to announce Alys and Ned? If the Night King reaches their keeps…” Sansa is distressed. She starts to pace around the room.

“I can take Drogon and fly there.” Daenerys looks at Sansa and her expression softens, “That’s the only way to save them.”

“This could be dangerous, Dany.” Jon forgets about formalities and grabs her hand, “The Night King and his army are too close. We can’t risk losing another dragon before the war… or _you_.” He emphasizes on the last word, his eyes wide open and locked on her.

The others notice their closeness and Tyrion clears his throat. “Your Grace, I must agree with Jon. This is a great risk. His dragon could strike you and Drogon down. We still don’t know how powerful he is.”

“ _My dragon_ you mean.” Irritability grows in her tone. “Viserion is not his dragon. He’s still my child even if he’s dead.” Her chest rises under her gown and she’s having a hard time trying to control her fury and sorrow; but Jon knows her best. She gulps once trying to compose herself and remain stoic, before she continues. “We’ll leave at once, lady Sansa. There’s no time to waste.”

“Then I’ll come with you.”  Jorah says, “I want to be sure you’re safe, Khaleesi.”

Jon feels his stomach twisting. A slight trace of jealousy creeps on his face. Something different than the look he had at Dragonstone, on the day he decided to go once more beyond the Wall. He saw with half an eye that the old man was in love with the queen.

“I’ll go.” He says. “Sansa, I let you in charge here. I will go with the queen.” Daenerys nods and Jorah looks at him with disaffection.

Sansa glances at Daenerys and cues at her brother as a sign of acquiescence. Before they leave the room, the lady of Winterfell grabs Jon’s forearm. “Be safe. And come back… both of you.”

“We will.” He embraces both his sisters.

“Be careful…” Arya gives him a peck on his cheek and he holds her tightly in his arms, nuzzling her hair.

 

* * *

 

Walking outside in the courtyard, Jon hears the horn blowing once and the North Gates open.

Eddison Tollet and a dozen men of the Night’s Watch enter on horseback.

“Edd!” The snow is thick on his hair and cloak. The cold stings both his and Jon’s faces as they haste towards each other with their arms wide open. “My friend…” Jon murmurs, “I am glad you’re here. Safe…”

“It might be funny, but… I’m glad too. I thought my eyes will become crystal globes.” Edd shakes and squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the sores beneath his eyelids.

Jon smiles wryly and looks around at the handful of men standing beside their tired horses. They are no more than fifteen.

“These are the only men left…” Edd continues, bringing to Jon’s notice. “A few died on our way here. But it’s better than nothing.”

Jon's heart aches. He is greatly saddened by the death of the men who once were his brothers. "Sansa, please arrange some rooms for them to sleep and give them something to eat." Looking back at his friend, the king takes farewell. "I must leave for now, but we will talk more when I come back. Go get some rest, Edd."

 

* * *

 

 

Outside Winterfell, near the Broken Tower, Drogon and Rhaegal scorched a portion of the land, both laying on the ground huddled together. They see their mother approaching and both stand. Stooping down, Drogon allows her to climb on his back. Jon watches her in awe, unable to move a single limb.

“Jon…” she smiles and gestures him to join her. He is hesitant at first. Climbing a dragon was not something he thought he’ll do in a million years. They were supposed to be extinct and still, the silver-haired woman who stole his heart was able to make a miracle happen. “Don’t be afraid, my king.” She laughs and turns her head at Jon as he climbs and holds Drogon’s spikes. “You’re safe with me.”

“I never said I’m afraid…” Leaning closer, Jon seizes her mouth and both share a loving kiss. Before they can catch their breaths, Drogon’s wings are fluttering in the wind, carrying them through the ethereal beauty of the sky.


	7. "A Dragon in the North" - Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death starts to seize the realm, as the Night King approaches Winterfell with each passing day. Daenerys and Jon Snow are determined to save Ned Umber and Alys Karstark, but the journey is scattered with troublesome obstacles. In King's Landing, Cersei picks up a quarrel with Euron Greyjoy, as he tries to force her hand in marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠ This story has mature content and/or profanity ⚠

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* * *

 

The storm is prickly, it feels like a blade scooping their skins. Dany looks down but she can see only snow, falling and convolving everything. “Where is Last Hearth? We passed the Long Lake, Jon!”

“It should be near! But I can’t see a bloody thing!” they yell at each other in an attempt to be more intelligible. The storm increases more and more, the whizzing making everything even more difficult.

Before they realize, Drogon carries them near the Bay of Ice; in the opposite direction. From there, both can see clearly the Wall and the storm is already calmer.

Shadow Tower is the first thing Jon recognizes. “We’re not in the right place… we must go back!”

“Drogon, valahd (fly)!”

[…]

Two men scout the area near the forested river. Karhold seems desolated. Near the frozen river, small docks with a few houses spread across a small bluff. The weirwood tree near the village is frosted.

Alys Karstark awaited some news from Winterfell for too long. Now, the people were unable to travel, most of them refusing to leave their houses for the icy road was dangerous even for their horses.

Looking outside from the window she can discern no difference between the sky and the land. Everything looks white; no horizon, lifeless… She’s afraid. She knows what’s coming, but there’s nothing she can possibly do. Not anymore.

A high pitched sound pierces through the whir of the stinging wind. Alys tries to focus on what lies between her castle and the wood. Soon, dozens of liches heave in sight, their eyes glowing blue. She steps back, stumbling upon a chair and falling on the floor. The screeching sound they make in unison is obnoxious and she covers her ears, weeping in fright.

There was no doubt in that. The dead men reached her hold and she knew her end is in the offing.

 

* * *

** King’s Landing **

Cersei lays in bed, her body weakened and her face effete from the blood loss.

After the queen lost her child, the maester had to clean and scrap her insides to prevent infections. Qyburn made a tea from Kingscopper, an herb used for healing and mixed it with Milk of the Poppy. The opiate eased her abdominal pain and made her sleep.

“How is she?” Euron stands near the fireplace.

“Better. But she needs rest.” Qyburn makes a hint that he should leave the queen’s chamber.  Cersei stirs in her sleep and slowly opens her eyes. “My queen…” Qyburn hastens to prop her head up with another pillow. “How are you feeling?”

Cersei’s eyes set on Euron Greyjoy and her face grimaces as she tries to sit up. “Qyburn, leave us.”

“But my queen—“

“I said, leave us. I’ll ask for you if you’re needed.”

Her Hand nods and collects his ointments and potions from the desk, before he leaves the room.

“You never told me you’re pregnant.” She’s not answering him denoting she’s beyond caring about his opinion. Euron huffs. “This bairn… Was it Jaime’s?”

“Does it matter?” Her face is inscrutable.

“Does it matter? He snoots. “You let me fuck you with another man’s child inside your womb and it doesn’t matter? For how long did you really think you could keep this secret hidden from me?”

“Watch your mouth!” she hisses, “This was no concern of yours! I am your queen and you’ll treat me with respect!”

Euron swoops upon her and grabs her jaw. “No concern of mine, you say… Should I jog your memory? I am the one who stands by your side now. As I recall, your beloved Jaime ran off with his tail between his legs and left you.” Cersei grunts and hitches her face from his grasp. “Queen or not, you’re my woman now. I expect you to fulfill your promise.”

“You have no decency!”

“You should have thought of that before you dared to lie.” He leans forward, whispering: “Marry me. Crown me king or I’ll take my fleet and go back to the Iron Islands.”

 

* * *

 

** Winterfell **

The snowflakes sift across Winterfell. Gendry is helping the northern men to chop woods. A stack full of logs is neatly arranged against the bridge near the Great Keep.

“Gendry!” Arya comes out from the armory with a freshly forged sword in her hand.

“My lady…” He curtsies, his wry smile broadening. Arya hits his arm and he starts laughing.

“I’m not a lady! She says with a witty smile. “Stop fooling around and follow me.”

“See? You’re giving commands. That means you’re a lady.”

“Shut up. Catch!” She throws the sword at him, but Gendry is not on the beam and drops it. Arya starts to roar with laughter.

“Hey, you caught me by surprise. Besides, I’m not a good swordsman.”

“Of course you’re not. You move like a girl.”

Gendry attempts a sardonic smile. “You are a girl.”

“Alright, alright. Enough with the babbling. Sword up!”

Gendry picks it up and shows her a daring look. Arya attacks him and in two fast coups, her epee knocks the heavy metal and the sword lands on the ground.

“You’re a crafty one.” He says.

“And you’re a daydreamer. This attitude won’t be useful in this war.”

Gendry squints at her and stoops down to pick up his sword. With a quick move, he deliberately trips her and Arya falls over in the snow.

“This was unexpected, wasn’t it?” he laughs.

Arya looks up at him and sighs. “This is not a move meant to kill someone.”

“No, but it’s a good way to slow off someone’s ass.” He offers his hand and helps her to stand. The swift hoist unbalances her body and Gendry cathes her in his arms.

The gap between their faces is less than an inch. Both are lost in the moment and she feels the weight of his gaze upon her lips. Gendry gulps once and withdraws his hand from her waist, letting her go.

An uncomfortable aura surrounds them. She feels something unusual, her body making room for tingling sensations.

“I should let you continue your work.” She says softly. “We can do this another time.”

A high sound waves from the horn and its blow catches her attention. Two guards open the East Gate which leads to Winter Town. Arya drops _‘Needle’_ and chills chase up her spine. Her stomach knots as she sees the man entering astride a horse. His face and the large scar covering his scalp are unmistakably pertaining to only one man in Westeros.

“The Hound…” she mumbles, her pulse pounding in her ears.

 

* * *

 

** Karhold **

The men scouting the area, narrowed their eyes in order to see better through the powdering snow. A frightening sound pierced through the storm drawing their attention. This ado was certainly unhuman and it resonated across the land with a deep, full, reverberating sound. They noticed the blue eyes of a shadow on horseback, the snow making the sight impossible to be unraveled.

A White Walker marched towards them and their mouths fell open as they perceived the humanoid ice creature. One of the two men started to scream and panic spanned his body. His skin crawled and cold sweat trickled down his sides.

He was ready to run, but a spear was hurled in his direction and the object dipped into his chest. The man fell on his knees, blood dripping from his mouth as his eyes were wide open and locked on the White Walker dismounting the dead horse. His boots clacked on the ice and fresh snow detached from the soles of his feet.

The second man watched this terrifying scenery running in slow motion; torpefied with fear and shock, he was unable to utter any word. A single gasp left his mouth as he fumbled for his sword and his heart thudded louder and louder.

Before he could even touch the pommel, the White Walker unsheathed his sword and jabbed it inside his belly lifting him up.

Blood spilled from his mouth on that creature’s face as his guts were riven inside by the edge of the glacial weapon.

A weight seemed to press on the lad’s chest, robbing him of breath. That was the scintilla of death, working its way inside his body.

The White Walker tilted his head looking straight into his eyes. With a sudden and violent move, the lich plunged his hand into the man’s ribcage and wrenched his heart out. Afterwards, he casted the man forcefully onto the ground and crushed his heart, its gore trickling between his icy fingers and painting the immaculate white snow under his feet.

 

* * *

 

** Winterfell **

The Hound has no words. Arya is alive and well, after so many years. _~The only one that needs protecting is the one who gets in her way. ~_ Brienne’s words echo in his mind. He grew fond of her back then, because he could see the fire burning within her tiny body.

Arya is shocked, angry, but happy as well; those feelings are mixing together like troubled water in a muddy hollow. She steps closer, studying him from head to toe and she still cannot believe her eyes.

“It’s been a long time.”

The Hound swallows. “You’ve grown. The last time I saw you, you stole my gold and left me on that fuckin’ hill to die.”

Arya hums. “I’ve never thought you might be alive.”

“After you left me bleeding to death? Sorry to disappoint you.”

She smirks. “The devil can’t be killed so easily, can’t he? What are you doing here?”

“That doesn’t concern you.” Sandor notices she still carries the tiny sword. Arya grips the pommel as his eyes settle on the valyrian dagger. “So many years passed and you’re still a loudmouth. And still carrying that junk.”

Arya steps closer, a steadfast look percolating his eyes. “And I still have you on my list…” Those words being said, she turns her back to him and walks inside.

“Still a little cunt.” He mumbles and then his eyes focus on Gendry. “Here you are. The whinging one…” he scoffs. “Where is the king?”

The lad is on the verge of simmering, but he contains himself. “He’s not here.”

“Where did he go?”

Sansa walks out from the Great Hall, alongside Bran and The Hound looks in their direction. She descries him and takes her hands off the wheelchair’s handles outright.

Sandor Clegane headways toward her and nods slightly. “The Lady of Winterfell… You’re not a little dove anymore.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks in a nonchalantly way.

“I’ve come here to speak with Jon Snow.”

“What do you want with my brother?”

“I’ve been staying at the Smoking Log these past few days. Your brother told me to keep watch on the area and inform him if something’s off.”

“Since when does my brother band with you? He never told me you two met. Why would be someone like you willing to help us? The last time I saw you, you abandoned Joffrey and fled King’s Landing.” she asks coolly.

“Don’t tell me you cared about Joffrey and his well-being.” He says taunting her. “That cunt deserved everything.”

“Yes. He did. But that’s not the thing that concerns me. I don’t know you… I still remember the way you liked to scare me with your vile remarks; and as far as I can tell your loyalty is quite uncertain.”

“He’s telling the truth.” Bran proceeds, “He was beyond the Wall with Jon… and in King’s Landing.” Sansa peeks at her brother, already knowing why he has that information.

She sighs deeply and nods. “He’s not here at the moment. He and the queen went to Last Hearth and Karhold. You can wait here for their return if you wish.”

“If they’re not here then I will tell you, because there is no time for waiting. Back there, in town, a few people died outside and no one burned their fucking bodies. Last night some old men were attacked outside the inn and early in the morning, the innkeeper found their bodies ripped apart, inside his stable.”

“What?”

“I saw one before I came here. He had the same bloody eyes as the one we took to King’s Landing. People die. Animals die…”

“What do you mean by ‘animals’?”

“They all raise. That fucker must be close.”

Sansa looks at her brother with disquietude. “Bran… do you think you can see something related to this?

“I don’t know. I told you my visions are always unforeseeable. It requires more than just a simple mental effort. But I will try…”

“We need to act quickly. I hope Jon will come back soon.” Sansa pauses and looks at The Hound. “You may come inside. A hot soup will calm your chills.”

“A good ale also…”

 

* * *

 

** Smoking Log –Winter Town **

Jamie and Bronn arrive in Winter Town, after five days of riding through thick snow and scathing winds.

“We should stop here. We need something to eat.”

“We can do that later, Bronn. We need to reach Winterfell.”

“Do you really think those cunts will feed us? After you and your sister did to them, I’m quite sure they will even give us golden chairs to sit on…” Bronn says in a mocking tone. “Come inside, man! I’m starving. We can’t deal with the dead men on an empty stomach.”

Jamie agrees. Before he enters, he gets a load of the stately castle. The last time he was there, a tragedy happened. He was the one causing great suffering, destruction, and distress to the Stark family. And all of that in the name of _love._

 

* * *

 

** Last Hearth (1 day before) **

A small dray could be seen coming out of the forest, east of the Kingsroad. An old man led the skinny horses through the snow.

Ned Umber and his men were ready to leave, for the weather was getting a boost from the sudden climate change. Compared to Alys Karstark, Ned was a wiser child and as head of House Umber, he wanted to protect his people and fulfill the promise his predecessors weren’t able to keep. He wanted to reach Winterfell. And soon.

Marching on their way to Kingsroad, they crossed the bridge over the Last River and met the old man in the middle of the road. He was a widower, without children and with not so many means of living. He was transporting wood, but not enough to keep him warm and alive for many days; this winter was supposed to last a few years.

The little lord proposed the old man to accompany him. His small dray could be useful to carry some of their belongings and make it easier for the horses as well.

Just before they hit the road again, a screeching sound made them all flinch. Ned perceived the huge shape of a dragon looming out of the storm overtaking them all. Tendrils of terror curled into his stomach.

The only thing he could see afterwards was the dazzling color of the dragon’s breath coming toward him, the blue fire torching his sight.

Nothing could be seen after; just a deep darkness and a seemingly bottomless chasm. _Death._


	8. "A Dragon in the North" - Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karhold is attacked by the Night King and many people die. Cersei returns to the charge and threatens Euron. Unexpected events take place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠ This story has mature content and/or profanity ⚠

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Queen Daenerys and Jon Snow scan the area, Drogon carrying them past the Last River and the forest east of Kingsroad. The storm passed, but the thick fog makes everything more difficult for them.

A few moments after, they feel it; the unmistakable smell of burned flesh and dead bodies. Daenerys realizes that as they approach, the fog becomes smoky.

“Jon…” she looks back at the king, her pulse pounding in her ears.

Landing near the forest, Drogon screeches. His body stiffens and he adopts a position of attack. Daenerys traces her hand gently over the scales of his skin, in an attempt to soothe him.

Climbing down, Jon looks around at the red painted snow, limbs of men and horses being scattered here and there, children and women split in half, or carbonized.  Closing his eyes tight, Jon tries to suppress the pain of losing his people. Four silver chains linked by a central ring on a dark red field – the sigil of house Umber. All the banners are speckled with blood and soot.

Jon notices on the farther side of the river, a withered tiny body; a child. Above his chest, the silver emblem of House Umber melted over the cadaver, but the king can clearly recognize the chains patterns carved on it. The dead boy is young Ned Umber.

Daenerys looks at the horrifying scenery, her eyes locked on the people who were burned to death. She is familiar with this kind of sight, but still, knowing that one of her dragons did this and it was not her command…

Batting her eyelashes, she is struggling to fight back her tears. Viserion was dead and they were not able to save the Umbers. Most of the dead were women and children, those whose bodies were mangled. The Night King resurrected the others for sure, adding more soldiers in his already large army.

Jon comes back and climbs on Drogon’s loin. “We must go now! The Night King is on his way to Karhold. If he’s not there already…”

 

* * *

 

**King’s Landing**

Cersei leaves the Red Keep, a dozen guards including Gregor Clegane, accompanying her to the Great Hall. She wears an extravagant black gown, with a golden lion embroidered on the bodice, a chainmail skirt and a beautiful pattern on the back of her coat, full of golden spikes.

Shining red gems are covering the spiky pauldrons above her shoulders and her new designed crown instills grandeur. The lost of her fourth child darkened her mind and heart even deeper than before.

Harry Strickland, the general of the Golden Company wanted to speak with the queen, about the last details of their departure.

Qyburn summoned him early in the morning, sharing the queen’s desire of attacking the North as soon as possible. The general was a man of the right sort of timber and he was more than ready to accomplish his task.

[…]

“My queen…” he curtsies, “I am thrilled to prosecute your wishes. Your lord Hand here told me you want me to sail to White Harbour today, before dusk. Is lord Greyjoy ready for this departure? I must organize my men.”

“Thank you, general. Lord Greyjoy will be informed soon. Please, do what you must. I need all your men ready for this war.” Cersei stands and comes forth, clasping her hands together. “Bring me the heads of those traitors. Including my brother’s.”

Harry Strickland bows in response, his mouth shaping a wry smile.

The queen walks down the stairs flanked by her guards, a cold look on her face. “Qyburn, tell that ironborn scum to come to my chamber. We have something important to discuss.” She mumbles. Her Hand nods and breaks the ranks, heading toward the pavilion.

 

* * *

 

**Karhold**

With each passing second, the deafening din of the White Walkers appalled the people inside the castle. Alys dares to look outside once again and she can clearly see thousands of wights marching towards her home. Fear clenches like a tight fist around her chest. She knows there is no way of getting it and she starts to cry.

Immediately after, a different roar could be remotely heard. Drogon effused his fire over the first hundreds of wights, making a clear path. Alys opened her eyes widely, shock hitting each part of her body. Was that a real dragon or she was going mad?

Drogon landed in front of the gates, the rugged cliff shuddering beneath his feet. Jon drew out Long Claw and jumped off the dragon’s wing. Both he and Daenerys looked carefully around for the Night King, waiting to see if there is any trace of Viserion.

The liches darted forward, climbing the cliff and beating the path toward the castle in large numbers. Drogon twitched around, adopting the same position of attack he did at Last Hearth. Daenerys grabbed tighter his spikes and watched confused as her dragon got angrier.

He whirls violently, slamming one of the walls with his tale. “Drogon!” the queen shouts.

Jon looks back at his queen and his eyes catch sight of _him_.

The Night King flies overhead on Viserion’s back, the dragon’s speed being unbelievably high. The blue flames pouring from between his large jaws are melting the rocky roof and most of the top of the castle.

And there starts the roughhousing. People run out of the castle flinging themselves into each other, screaming in terror as they see the smoke coming out of the keep and the dead men rushing to kill them all.

Dany looks up and a ball of terror forms in her stomach as she sees Viserion disappearing through the storm.

The first wights reach up and Jon puts them down. “Daenerys! We must take them out of here! Open the gates!” he yells.

The queen looks at Drogon and with one single blow, he burns the gates to cinders. People scream louder and move frantically as they see the beast entering.

“Please! Don’t be afraid!” she climbs down and runs towards the crowd. “I am Daenerys Targaryen. Your king is outside these walls, fighting those creatures to buy us some time. You must come with me! Now!” People start to move and she grabs a man’s sleeve. “Where is lady Karstark?”

“There, Your Grace…” he answers, pointing at the bottom of the stairs.

Daenerys hastens to reach the young girl. “My lady! Please, come with me.” Alys nods. She’s bruised, her forehead full of blood. “We need all the fighting men you have. Tell your master-at-arms to prepare. I'll get your people to safety, but we need to fight to get out of here or we’ll all die before the war even started!”

 

* * *

 

 

Carriages and drays were pulled by horses galloping through the forest. The fighting men of House Karstark remained on the cliff, fighting against the liches overweighing the bridge.

Drogon burned a few dozens of wights, making clear paths for those escaping on horseback. Most people already reached the Last River and stopped near the bank. The river seemed to be frozen, but they had to get off the carriages and walk carefully over the icy layer. The horses were neighing in fright, all of them being still unsettled.

Jon Snow instructed them to move as quickly as possible and reach The Dreadfort, while he and the queen remained to fight the dead men.

Formerly, the seat of House Bolton, The Dreadfort was located on the banks of the Weeping Water east of Winterfell.

They all had to make head towards Sheepshead Hills, which were located in the North within the dominion of House Manderly.

Another major river had to be crossed. The White Knife flowed south, with Winterfell to the west and the Dreadfort and Hornwood to the east. Just south of Winterfell, its affluent began in the southeastern stretch of the Wolfswood and flowed southeast to meet the White Knife west of the Sheepshead Hills. A few more miles and they would be at Winterfell, safe for a while longer.

 

* * *

 

Still fighting with the wights, Jon hears a shriek behind him. Drogon senses Viserion again and his muscles strain, a long growl escaping his gullet.

“Jon! We must go now!” Daenerys’ expression is full of concern and fear. In the blizzard there was no way to know which direction to follow. The usual landmarks were fading behind the white powder that swirled so densely. She believes the Night King will pursue those who escaped Karhold.

Jon looks at the remaining Karstark men. Half of them died. “Everyone fall back!”

The soldiers run and climb up on Drogon’s back. The wind is nippy and even the leather above their skin feels like thick slabs, cracking with every movement.

Jon turns around and hastens to mount the dragon. The wights follow him moving frantically, but as they approach, Drogon parches them down. The coldness and the sting of the snow piled into drifts, blind them all and the ferocity of the wind is threatening to make them part of the scenery.

Snowflakes whirl in eddies of wind and suddenly, with a fast movement like a pointed missile, Viserion darts among the storm and captures one of the men sitting behind Jon.

His yowls of pain fade away into the distance, until only muffled cries can now be heard. Jon and Daenerys look at each other and to his distress, he sees that she is trembling. She is afraid.

“Valahd!” Drogon takes wing as soon as his mother gives the command.

 

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Daenerys looks down at the blanket of white, her thoughts lost and every sound in her ears is plugged. As her eye travels to the edge of the woodland, she sees the trees are veiled in the gloomiest of mists, sable cracks that gnarl the bark are accentuating the sombre color of their trunks.

Into sight flash hundreds of emaciated, decayed men, the skeletal creatures shuffling towards the Dreadfort in a soft-witted manner. Jon is taken aback. The air got suddenly clogged with sounds of movement, clatters and treads of feet, dissipated mauled bodies being trampled underfoot by giants. One of the wights looks up. He lets out a piercing screech and charges forward with an ape-like fury. His clothes are tattered and shredded mainly where his heart should be, his torn tongue and blood-stained, savage teeth being visible thorough his splayed jaw. The atmosphere was stormy, the white noise hypnotizing.

And as though his screech was heard, Viserion's bluey blaze hits Drogon. He falls with a sudden uncontrollable descent, twisting rapidly and freely without control. The air suffuses with his growling sounds.

"Daenerys!" She almost collapses, but Jon cathes her forearm, holding her in a vice-like grip. His knuckles turn white as he clings to Drogon with all his might. Despair is limpid on his face, for he feels his queen slipping from his grasp. "No!"

 

* * *

 

**King’s Landing**

Euron Greyjoy heads to Cersei’s chamber and cocks his eyes at the guards studding each side of the hall. Each and every step he makes is full of smug. Stopping in front of The Mountain, he looks up at him with an air of haughtiness.

“Am I going to stand here all day, looking at your freaky face? Step aside!” When he tries to pass by, Gregor clenches his fist around the hilt of his sword. Euron draws off and after a few moments of staring at each other, the hulking man opens the door and lets him inside.

“My queen!” he approaches Cersei with a confident pace.

“That’s close enough.” She is sitting at her desk, looking at the ironborn with a spurning look. Euron halts and squinches his eyes. “I called for you, because we need to talk about your departure.”

“My departure?”

“Indeed. I spoke with General Strickland and I want you and your men to get ready. You will leave today at dusk.”

Euron laughs and pinches the tip of his nose in annoyance. “And I’m the last one hearing about this? As I remember I am your man now.”

“Watch yourself! Don’t even think that after I let you into my bed, you’ll do whatever you want. I won’t spare another audacity from you. Not anymore. I’m still your queen and you will do as I command!”

“Oh, really?” he asks in a mocking tone and takes a few more steps closer.

“Gregor!” In a motion of seconds, The Mountain comes inside and stands in front of the doorway.

“Never in your lifetime dare to be this arrogant in my presence.” She says with an impassive expression. “You will do as I said, or I can tell the general to gut all your men and throw them into the sea. Remember well, my lord, the Golden Company is mine. The Iron Fleet is mine now.” Euron gulps as the queen stands and comes closer. For the first time he had been cowed into silence. “Antagonize me again and Ser Gregor here will be more than happy to split your guts in half.”

Greyjoy grinds his teeth and she can see the anger rising, she can see the clench of his fists. “As you wish, _my queen_ …” Laying emphasize on the last words, Euron curtsies and turns around, leaving the room.

 

* * *

 

** Winterfell **

“I heard I might find you here.” Jorah is in the kitchen, having supper. He lifts his eyes to look at Sam. “So good to see you again. We didn’t have the chance to talk after your arrival. Everyone is busy, getting ready for the Great War.”

Jorah smiles and stands, shaking hands with him. “This is the only place I can eat without the scornful look of lady Sansa. Not to mention my cousin.” Sam smiles sympathetically. “Although I can’t blame them…” Jorah continues, “I am happy our paths crossed again. After everything you did for me…”

“I am happy too. I already told you that your father saved me countless times. He was a good man.” The words cease for a while and then Sam breaks the silence. “Jon told me about what happened beyond the Wall. He was very fond of your father and as far as I can tell he admires you.”

“He seems to be a good man.”

Sam nods and points at his scars. “…Does it hurt?”

“A bit. Sometimes…”

The horn blows once and both rush outside. The northerners seem greatly cheered. “The King is back!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed how that infernal scenery was described. Cheers!


	9. "A Dragon in the North" - Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Jon Snow arrives at Winterfell with the people he saved, more disturbing news are being brought to his attention. Euron and General Strickland are sailing north, while in King's Landing, Cersei is visiting the dungeons of the Red Keep. Enjoying their love, Jon and Daenerys are about to face the hard truth soon enough. Sam feels weighted with the things he knows about his friend and talks with Bran about revealing the truth. And last but not least, Jaime and Bronn arrive at Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠ This story has mature content and/or profanity ⚠

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Drogon alighted on the ground, his wings brushing away the snowy area around him and joined his brother. As Jon dismounted the horse, his sisters moved swiftly towards him, relief enhancing on their faces.

„Jon!” Arya jumps into his arms, hugging him to her heart. „I’m so glad you are alright.”

The ones who escaped Karhold enter the gates as well and everyone gather around them outside the keep, cheering, shaking hands with their king and helping the wounded men to get off their horses. Women and children are taken to the Great Hall to be fed.

“Where is the queen?” Sansa looks about for Daenerys.

Jon’s expression is bleak. It is impossible for him not to bethink himself of the moment he almost lost her.

Arya hears light footsteps in the cruncy snow and takes a hinge at the queen, approaching. She keeps a hold of Alys Karstark, for the young lady is not very steady on her feet.

She looks tired and her face is scratched, her head injured and the blood seeped on her temples is already dry, flakes pelting against her frozen cheeks, clinging to her eyelashes and hair. The pain in her fingertips and toes is excruciating.

„Lady Karstark needs help. She must be seen by the maester.” Daenerys addresses to a northern woman from the household.

„Khaleesi...”Jorah quickens his pace to reach the queen. „Are you alright?”

„I’m fine.” She answers with a smile as he holds her hands in his own. Jon is looking askance for a moment. He noticed long ago how strong Jorah’s feelings are for the queen, but he can’t do anything about it after all. Daenerys and Jorah have their past and both have been friends since she was just a young girl.

After more minutes of chatting and enjoying each other’s company, they decided to go inside. Jon made sure the Karstarks were well cared for.

Sandor’s presence in his abode gave him a mild, uneasy feeling. The Hound apprised him about what happened in Winter Town and just the simple thought of what might come next made Jon’s head thump. After all the fight he had at Karhold and the risk he took to save his people, these news were totally disturbing. New wights were roaming around Wintefell now and they all had to keep an eye out. Day and night.

The midnight caught up on them all. New plans had been made. Jon sent Davos to inform the people about the wights causing havoc amongst the villagers and peel their eyes open if something is out of the common. They had to find a way to hunt them down.

 

* * *

 

 

Entering the candlelit chamber, Jon’s eyes lock on her naked body still damp from the bath. She is toweling her beautiful ivory skin and her bum is exposed, giving him a boner. His eyes travel along the curves of her body, each one of them ingraining in his mind. He feels an ache in his heart, a flutter forcing its way inside his chest from fear. A few hours passed since that incident befell and she nearly lost her life.

Knowing he is watching her, Daenerys purses her mouth in a soft loving smile.

Naked ferm and lovely breasts come into view as she turns around; her billowing tendrils of silver hair are framing her beautiful face so perfectly, moving in a watery dance.

The clothes glide slowly down his body, piece by piece, his gaze unbroken. She steps closer, her eyes glistening with adoration and with a soft touch, her silky hand paints its way down from his chest to his root, making his manhood twinge in agony; he grits his teeth to hiss his pleasure.

The hair on his arms and legs snap with static, when she stands on her tiptoes, inhaling deeply his manly scent. Her bosoms brush and pamper his chest, scattering goose bumps across every pore.

“Daenerys…” Jon pulls a gasping moan into his lungs as his queen reaches down and wraps her tiny hand around his erection, making it pulse around her grip.

She brushes her lips several times across his mouth, causing a small groan to escape his throat. Jon lifts her right off her feet, carrying her toward the bed, both falling with a soft bounce on the mattress. All at once, there is nothing else in her world, just Jon becoming part of her in that very moment.

“Jon…” She heaves euphoric sighs, the bliss of feeling his warmth inside her, sending an earthquake through her loins. Jon knew how to make her lose herself, how to make her yield. Jon was the only man ever who was able to do that.

His slow pace and the unhurried touch brings her on and on, to the brink of ecstasy. Refusing to give her that for the first time, Jon stares deeply at her, his eyes wild and daring her to beg for it. Their lips are squashing against each other, his tongue teasing and his teeth nipping, his hands torching her skin until she moans his name in need.

Slithering his hands underneath the small of her back, his fingers splay on her buttocks, drawing her up to deepen their entwining. He can’t get enough of her and this insufficiency makes him love her even more.

Suddenly, he breaks their connection and stands on his knees, looking thoughtfully for a long time at the woman he loves deeply. One of his hands glides between her thighs to her slit, his fingers painting a line amid her velvety folds.

Grabbing her wrist, Jon moves her hand down and with a delicate touch her fingers linger and explore the soft head of his erection, sliding them over his heavily veined skin. Prickles of pleasure creep through her core, when he grows harder in her grip, feeling the muscle throb. A pool of juices wet her thoroughly in anticipation.

Shortly afterwards, she feels Jon’s ticklish breath on her skin. He passes leisurely his tongue over her crevice and the action makes every rational thought from her mind to fade away. Squeezing the sheets, she closes her eyes, picturing the way his gentle flicks bring her close to the zenith.

The tightening of her belly concludes with a wave of consuming lightning; the escape of her moisture swells her. It happens so many times, she already loses count. They make love again… and again.

Basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, both fall asleep, their bodies warm and snuggled in, as close as two souls can be.

 

* * *

 

 

The night is serene, harsh winds flaunting the sails of Euron’s warships. Both him and Strickland are gaping at the seawater starting to freeze, frazil ice floating on the surface of the shorelines.

“This is something you don’t get to see very often…”

“I remember the last winter. It is said that a long summer always means a longer winter to come.” Euron comments. “You might be a great fighter, general, but Essos didn't teach you how to manage ice-cold weather.

“I don't need to be taught anything. I faced worse things than winter.”

Euron sneers knowingly. For sure an army of dead men was not something the mercenary ever faced. “Maybe…”

“What about the queen? I could see you two are very close.” the general pauses and awaits for a reply. “She's a strong woman. Rumor has it that she has a… _special_ relationship with her brother. Is that true?”

Euron laughs and leans closer, whispering: “You should have asked her. All I know is that she has a marvelous twat.” he takes out his pocket bottle and sips its content. “After this war is over, you can have her. I can share the royal pussy with you and all your men.” Raising the bottle, Euron walks away from Strickland, an evil chuckle following his alcohol flair.

 

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Back in King's Landing, Cersei goes inside the dungeons of the Red Keep, where Ellaria and Tyene are chained up.

The last time she was there, the queen retaliated for Myrcella's death, poisoning Oberyn's bastard with the same bane her mother used on the princess. _‘You will watch her beautiful face crumble into bone and dust…’_ These words echoed in her mind as she crept down the stairs and grabbed a torch. The air was stuffy and she felt immediately the stench of blood and putrefaction.

Placing a kerchief above her mouth and nose, Cersei opened the door and grimaced in disgust. Tyene's body was already in the process of decay, her skin melting with rot and maggots twirling inside her flesh. Notable bloating of her torso and limbs ruptured the skin tissues, releasing the unbearable odor, as death continued to consume and excrete her body. The sight was repugnant.

On the other side, an underfed Ellaria laid dead against the wall, the back of her head smashed and stinky blood bathing her shoulders. She killed herself eventually, banging her head on and on against the wall, until her skull shattered wide open. The gag around her mouth was full of vomit, her eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“Guards!” A young lad approaches as the queen hands him the torch. “Burn these two and clean up the cell. We need it ready for new prisoners.”

“Yes, Your Grace!”

 

* * *

 

**Winterfell**

The sun made its way slowly up to the sky. It was still the crack of dawn, when Jon woke up. Knowing that some of the household already knew what happened between him and his queen, Jon ordered a maid to fetch hot water for their bath. Although the household was quite discreet, he didn't care anymore. Actually he had in mind to confess his love for Daenerys in front of his family and his people soon enough. Also, he wanted something more…

“You don't like to sleep at all…” a drowsy sweet voice pipes behind him. Her touch is so warm and delightful. “You've put your chemise on… you look better without it.”

Jon's genuine smile spreads across his face as he slants closer to kiss her. A knock comes at the door and Dany widens her eyes, when he lets the maid inside. His laughter startles her.

“Don't worry. We are safe.” she blushes uncontrollably and bites her lips, when Jon lays a finger upon her face and kisses the tip of her nose.

As soon as the tub is filled and the girl leaves, he undresses himself and steps into the water. “Come. Join me.”

Without any hesitation, Daenerys walks towards him in a catlike way, displaying her beautiful nakedness, her eyes full of love and passion.

Jon watches her from head to toe, while the queen dips in the tub. She slides on top of him and kisses him longingly, the water shrouding her tiny waist.

“My love…” he moans at the feeling of her colligating with him and moving in slow circles. He gloats over her.

Jon wraps his hands around her and palms her bum, working his hips underneath her with eagerness. “You’re mine…” He fathoms the kiss and cradles one of her breasts in his calloused palm.

“And you are mine…” she utters between pants, cupping his face. Their lovemaking is keenly and special, branding the blaze of pleasure deeper into them.

[…]

Later on, Bran and Samwell Tarly have a little talk about Jon.

“When will you tell him? It’s been a few days since he arrived and all we did so far is talk about the Great War.”

“I couldn’t tell him right away, Sam. After everything I noticed recently, this thing requires a bit of time. You see the chaos surrounding all of us now. Besides, I’m afraid this will change everything…”

“Of course it will. He is the true king and he must know the truth about his family… about him. The Night King will be here soon and Jon might die without knowing who he really is.”

“Please, understand. It is very complicated now…”

“No, it is plain and simple. Jon is my friend and I can’t keep avoiding him forever. I can’t just look him in the eye anymore, knowing he still doesn’t know the truth.” Sam stands and walks toward the door. He stops for a moment and turns around to face Bran, before he leaves. “If you won’t tell him soon, I will.”

The door closed with a slam behind him. Bran was lost in thoughts. _He is in love with her…_

 

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The Great Hall was prepared for another gathering. Jon announced his bannermen and the leaders of Daenerys’ army to join the assembly.

Sansa wrote another letter for young lord Arryn, sending one of her emissaries to hand him personally the epistle. She was concerned that the raven lord Royce sent a few days ago to the Vale, didn’t reach its destination.

Jon’s speech was soon interrupted by the blowing sound of the horner. As it resonated once, everyone hoped that the Lannister army finally reached Winterfell. Jon hastened outside, but to his surprise the only ones coming through the gateway were Jaime and Bronn.

The king looked mistrustfully as they dismounted their horses. Jaime stepped closer and greeted him.

“Where is your army?” Jon asks, as northerners flock around them.

“It’s just me, Your Grace.” He looks back at his friend, a blend of emotions etched on his face. “ Me and Bronn…”


	10. "A Dragon in the North" - Part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Snow confronts Jaime as he finds out the truth about his brother's crippledom. The lords are very hostile and Daenerys starts to doubt Tyrion's loyalty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠ This story has mature content and/or profanity ⚠

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“We knew this will happen! I knew we can't trust Cersei and I've repeatedly told you, Jon!” Sansa's voice resounds through the Great Hall. The northern lords nod to each other, murmurs being heard in every direction.

Jaime Lannister told them about Cersei's plan to destroy the North, by bringing the Golden Company from Essos; about her alliance with Euron Greyjoy and his perfect acting at the Dragon Pit. Their lies… It was all a cheap theater.

Knowing that Daenerys will head North to defeat the army of the dead alongside Jon Snow, she found this an auspicious opportunity to take back the Seven Kingdoms.

 

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Daenerys looks down at Tyrion, bitterness all over her face. She’s wondering now, what could her Hand possibly tell his sister that day? What reason did Tyrion give Cersei to come back and give them all false promises?

“I should have known your sister won't keep her word. I always listened to you and you've failed me most of the time.” her harsh words bring a scowl on Tyrion's face.

“Your Grace –“

“I am not interested in hearing more!” Dany spats. “I should have killed her when I had the chance… if I think clearly for a moment, it's still not too late.”

Seeing the fury on her face, Tyrion frightens. “Your Grace, we've discussed this.”

“We are always discussing things!” she yells and draws everyone's attention. Jon is full of daze. He's never seen the queen so angry before. “You're always taking part with your family! After all these years, you still try so hard to stop me from harming your precious sister!”

“This is not true! And you know that! All I ever did was to serve you!”

“And you failed terribly…” Dany replies, seething with anger.

Sansa is feeling smug and smiles slightly, satisfied by the scene. “You Lannisters have always been cunning creatures…” she proceeds. “... a pack of lions holding each other's backs, no matter the odds. But you were never smart enough…”

“Sansa…” Jon is looking askance at his sister, trying to silence her.

“No, I think this is the proper moment for you to know. Now that we are all gathered here, just before the war will start, I think everyone deserves to know where we stand. Friends and foes… Such a charming alliance.” Sansa comments with a curdled smile and a sarcastic tone. “Maybe today we'll live, but who knows about tomorrow?” she stands and paces gracefully, stopping in front of the crowd. “We all suffered. We all lost people we love and we have been engrossed in war and hate to the detriment of our misery. But we all missed the point.”

Jon notices the way Bran is looking at Jaime. And the way Jaime is avoiding his glance. The northerners have a swivel as if they want to cut to pieces the Kingslayer themselves. Bronn stands just a few inches behind his friend, keeping an eye out for any attack attempt.

“Ser Jaime…” Sansa turns her attention toward him. “I think you remember my brother…” Jon narrows his eyes looking back at Bran, a ripple filling his veins. Jaime's reaction is one of a shamed man, looking down at his feet.

“Sansa, what is the meaning of this?”

“This is where all started… Here, into our home. Littlefinger might have lied on and on, shifting loyalties and selling all of us out. But this… this is the core of all our differences.” she looks back at Bran, who’s look is impassive. “He is the one who pushed Bran from the window.” With mouth gaped and eyes wide open, Jon feels his pulse racing, while his sister continues. “Bran saw him and his sister having… _intimate relationships_ inside the Burned Tower and for the sake of their reputations, Jaime Lannister wanted to put our brother to silence!”

People inside the Great Hall gasp, astounded. Tyrion locks eyes with his brother, dread filling his chest. Deep down, he always knew Jaime did that.

Jon feels the wrath slinking its way inside him, as his eyes are focused now on the man who crippled his little brother. He steps closer to Jaime until only a few feet distance compiles the gap between the two of them.

Grinding his teeth, his dark eyes glare at him very angrily, spitefully. In a swift motion, Jon grabs the leather collar of Jaime’s jacket, a deep angry growl coming from his throat.

Brienne intercedes in an instant, holding Jon’s forearm. “My king! I know he committed a lot of ruthless actions, but ser Jaime changed. He might have done harm to your brother, but he also saved your sisters. He kept his promise toward lady Catelyn…” Jon clenches his fists tighter around the collar, pulling Jaime closer and breathing heavily, veins popping out of his temples and his face reddening with rage. “You said it yourself. We need every fighting man we can get. If what he’s saying is true, then we will face a two-pronged attack.”

“It’s alright, Jon.” Bran’s utterance is followed by a deathlike silence. “That remains in the past. We all have our dark sides after all…”

Jon lets him loose and looks deep into his eyes. “Even if my brother granted you mercy, I will never forget what your family did to mine.” He draws in a deep breath, “….never.”

Jaime is standing in front of the king, his head down. “I don’t deserve your mercy. All my actions have brought discord between our families…I know I did terrible mistakes and I could never mend the harm I did to you all.” The word _Kingslayer_ is coming out of many mouths, the northerners spitting in loathe. “I know I don’t deserve your trust, but… allow me to keep the promise I made, even if my sister didn’t." Jaime kneels and takes out Widow's Wail from its sheath. “I want to pledge my sword to you. I want to be by your side in this war. Even if that will cost my own life.”

Gradually, Jon’s look softens and he slowly unclenches his fists. “[sigh]For our people.” He offers Jaime his hand to help him stand, while the northerners clamour in disagreement.

Sansa feels uneasy. With a last disdainful look, she turns toward the chair and sits at the table. In the depth of her being, she feels a little grudge for her half-brother. After he was named _king_ , she felt somehow that it was not his right; a bastard boy she resented in her childhood became King in the North.

Arya observes her deportment, and watches steadily how her sister tries hard not to show her real feelings.

 

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In a corner, Sam and his wife sit on the bench watching as everyone settles down. He is nervous, his feet tapping constantly the stoney floor.. “What is wrong, Sam?”

“Nothing… don’t worry about me.”

Gilly knows him better though and she reaches to pluck his sleeve. “Don’t even think about doing something stupid, Sam.” She whispers.

But as soon as his woman finishes the sentence, Sam stands all at once. “Jon!” he pauses until he gets his friend’s full attention. “I think we should talk.”

“Sam…” Bran’s voice draws his attention and both look at each other for a moment. Sansa narrows her eyes, noticing how impassive her brother’s gaze is. Both Samwell and Bran seem to hide something.

“What is it, my friend?” Jon snaps him out from his lethargic state.

Sam turns his head to look at him and blinks a few times. “Since you came back, I’ve been trying to talk to you. I know this is a bad moment for you to know, but maybe we could have a word…?”

Jon glances at the table, where Daenerys and his family are sitting and then, at the whole room filled with people. “I think we should postpone this conversation for later. We have important matters to discuss now.”

“This is also important, so —“

“I promise we will talk, alright?” Jon places a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Sam complies for he has no choice. He is still unsatisfied by the situation and uncomfortable with the burden of keeping the truth for a longer time further.

Tyrion gives an eye to the old book Sam holds in his hands and the title of it stirs his curiosity: **_Legends of the Long Night._ **

Jon takes his seat next to Daenerys at the long table, while the others wait for him to proceed. Jaime sits near Brienne, but the northern lords are indignant at the thought of him being part of their meeting. He notices the resentful looks etched on their faces and manages to seize upon some whispers regarding his aspects.

“Now that we all settled our differences, we should go on and think about the new problems we will face soon.” Prattle and rattling again. The lords aren’t capable to listen to the very end. “Please, my lords! Settle down!” As the spirits start to ease, Jon continues. “Ser Jaime came North, but without an army. We will fight with the men we have, so we must keep the plan as it is.”

“We expected that, my king. We did warn you! Lady Sansa, who knows her very well warned you. A Lannister will always be a Lannister!” Lord Royce comments.

“Aye!” Most of the northerners concur with his statement. Jaime and Tyrion exchange looks, both feeling uncomfortable.

“She broke her word and now she’s planning to seize hold of all kingdoms, including ours!” lord Glover stands. “That woman is a wretch! She always was…” With the last words being said, Glover turns to look at Jaime. “How do we know this is not another one of her miserable plans? Seeping her lover into our camps to finish what she can’t from afar?” Jaime leaps to his feet in an instant, ready to lash out.

“Enough! Cersei won’t reach us soon, because the weather is not in her favor. We must win the war against the dead; we can’t afford losing more men. Ned Umber died and most of his men were probably turned into wights. Winning this war is the most important task right now.”

“It might be the most important task, King Snow. But you forgot that woman is bringing an army of mercenaries from the other continent. And that ironscum is helping her. They could be on their way to Winterfell as we speak and reach our gates sooner than the Night King himself.”

“Maybe you ought to sit down, lord Glover.” Arya glowers at him. Jon watches her sister stand. “You should be more careful with your tone. This is your king.”

“My lady, it was never my—“

“I’m not a lady. And don’t worry; if I see the slightest trace of treason in the Kingslayer’s actions or anyone’s, I’ll cut their throats myself.” Arya’s eyes bore into his brother’s ones. “Excuse me…” She leaves the Great Hall, but not before glancing at Daenerys.

“Jon Snow is right.” Daenerys breaks the awkward silence that followed Arya’s interference. “We should be more concerned about the dead men at the moment. As soon as we win this, we will take care of Cersei all the same.”

“And after that, what?” Lyanna Mormont approaches them and stands in front of Daenerys.

“My lady?”

“After we will win both wars… What will happen? As far as my advisors informed me, you came back to Westeros to claim your rightful place in the Seven Kingdoms. A few months ago, our king headed to Dragonstone to meet with you for this alliance. He bent the knee though and handed our kingdom once again to the Targaryens, so I must ask you again… _Your Grace._ What will happen to this kingdom after you take back the Iron Throne?”

Daenerys is stunned by her intellect and diplomacy at such a tender age. “You are a true Mormont, my lady.” Lyanna ducks her head, as a sign of thankfulness. Jorah smiles softly. “My priority at the moment is our survival. It is true that I came back to Westeros with only one purpose, something I wished since I was just a little girl. But circumstances changed everything…” she peeks at Jon for a moment, “I will not claim the North and I do not wish to be your queen.” Some gasps could be heard. Even Jon was surprised. “The North is and will be an independent kingdom. And Jon Snow is your king.”

Jon fixed her with his eyes, unable to look elsewhere. Sansa watched as the northerners applauded and even little Lyanna noticed the light on Jon’s face as he looked at the queen. She was satisfied with the answer, but not fully convinced with Daenerys’ real intentions.

 

* * *

 

As she walks across the courtyard, Arya sees the Hound near the armory, gluttonizing from a lamb roasting on a beam. Clegane hears the sound of snow crunching under a pair of boots and turns to look towards Arya, who stopped a few feet near him.

“I thought I’ll see you at the gathering.”

“To do what? Watching as your brother tries to convince some stubborn cunts how to be reasonable?” his words are muffled by the mouthful he takes from the lamb haunch.

“You haven’t changed at all…”

“Forsooth! Why would I? This is who I am and I like it.”

“We didn’t talk very much since you arrived here.”

“I have nothing to say to you.” The Hound sinks his teeth into the pulp.

“Well, I wanted to thank you for helping my brother. I know you’ve been with him beyond the Wall.”

“I haven’t been with your brother anywhere, so fuck off. We met at the Wall. After his former cunt brothers of the Night’s Watch locked me in a cell. I was heading there with Beric and –“

“The Brotherhood Without Banners?” she laughs. “That is interesting. Making team with the man you killed.”

“Shut up! I don’t have to explain myself to you, so fuck off! You became more annoying than I last saw you.”

“Perhaps. But nevertheless you protected me then… when I was a child.”

“You took care of my sister?” None of them noticed Jon coming.

 


	11. "A Dragon in the North" - Part 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon visits the crypts. Sam discusses with him about Lyanna Stark and the king confesses his love for Daenerys. Both Jon and the queen decide to take their relationship to the next level. Summoning the northern lords, they share with them their decision, but their speech ends up with a cliffhanger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠ This story has mature content and/or profanity ⚠

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* * *

 

 

The Great Hall cleared out right after the queen shed light on the situation. Jon looked fondly at her until she left the room. After, he talked with lord Manderly about the defence planning and the precautionary measures against the new wights. Having the camps settled in Winter Town’s elbow, both northmen and the queen’s army were in danger.

[...]

Eager to clear his mind and breathe some fresh air, Jon leaves the Great Hall as well, following his vassal. Coming out and pacing along the courtyard, he notices that in front of the armory, Arya is having a conversation with The Hound.

Stepping closer, Jon seizes upon the fact that the man protected his sister after their father died and she fled King’s Landing.

“You took care of my sister?” Jon threw his hat into the ring, interrupting them.

Both Arya and The Hound didn’t take notice of him approaching.

“Jon…” Arya leaped around, a bit startled of his voice.

“Did I understand well? Did you protect her?” he repeats looking straight at Clegane.

Hesitating, the man chokes down the remaining of his food and uses his sleeve to wipe his mouth.

“That happened a few years ago. Most of the time I was in Braavos.” she answers instead.

“Braavos?”

She nods and draws in a deep breath. “I shall let you talk. I want to rest. Call for me if you need something.” She glances at Sandor one more time and trails off towards the keep.

 Jon turns his eyes to The Hound.

“Don't worry. She is a strong little thing.”

Jon watches him slurping his ale before he starts speaking again. “You never told me that you met my sister. Still, I am surprised you helped her.”

“Why? Do I look like a vicious animal to you?” he asked in a jeering tone.

“I know you are a foul-mouthed man and I know you and I didn’t talk very much, but… thank you. I am grateful you took care of her.”

Sandor nods in acknowledgement. “She was at the wrong time in the wrong place. That's all…”

The king turns his steps to the crypts, a little smile embossed on his face.

 

* * *

 

Sparks from candles illume the stone walls and the carved statues inside the crypts. He paces fealty, looking at each one of them, a reminiscent smile curving his lips. He misses those times when he was just a kid and had no concern about the outside world, laughing and playing with his brothers and sisters, running nimbly from place to place, walking with a spring in each step and enjoying their childhood. But most of all, he misses _him,_ his father.

 He touches the cold monolith, just above the place his father's hand wraps around the pommel of his rusty sword. What was left of Ned Stark? Just a pile of bones, under a standing sculptured stone. Jon wishes he could be here, to see him one last time, as he promised back then.

 Kindling another candle, he feels his eyes damp with unshed tears.

“Jon.” the gravel gnashes under Sam's feet. He comes near his friend and rivets his eyes on the statue of Lyanna Stark. “I hope you don't mind I came here…”

“Not at all. You are my brother, even if we don't share the same blood. This is your home as well.”

Sam smiles and contemplates the place for a few moments. “This place contains so much history…”

“Aye. It does.”

“Is this Lyanna Stark?”

“Aye. She was my father's sister.”

“Do you know something about her?”

“No. Father never spoke very much about her. He looked pained every time somebody mentioned her name. All I know is that she died a long time ago, when my father fought to overthrow Aerys Targaryen. She was the reason of that rebellion.”

“Daenerys’ brother ravished her. That's what you have been told. Am I right?”

Jon scrutinizes his friend's face. “Everyone knows that. I'm not the only one.”

“Aren't you afraid she might be like her family?”

Jon's heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?”

“Daenerys. I heard the details of my father's death and my brother's…”

“Sam -”

“Don't worry… I don't blame her for doing what she did. My father deserved that. Still, I feel sorry for my brother. He was a good man.”

“We've all done many mistakes…” Jon averts his eyes for a while and nips his inner lip. “I love her.”

“Umm… by _her_ you mean…”

“Yes.” Sam blinks a few times feeling as if needles are stinging his chest. “[sigh] I never counted on that. Going to Dragonstone to forge an alliance and ending up falling in love with her. As much as I fought against my feelings, they kept resurfacing stronger than before.”

“My… I don't know what to say. I noticed your familiarity, but I thought it's just… I mean, it's been a long time since you had a woman.”

“Nothing I feel now compares with what I ever felt before. I love her in a way that pains me sometimes. This war is my worst nightmare ever.”

“One of them…” Sam mumbles.

“What?”

“Nothing… I should go. Gilly is probably expecting me to join her for supper. Good night!”

“Alright then. Good night, my friend.”

 

* * *

 

Later that evening, he spent a lot of time thinking about what Sam told him, but he was determined to do something that might sound reckless for many people.

 Daenerys was sleeping beside him, both huddled together. She looked so angelic and he couldn't stop caressing her face. His fingers trailed her skin, contouring her comely features one by one. There was nothing he could wish more than a family with her. He wanted her to carry his child. To be the woman he will spend the rest of his life with.

[…]

 She feels his touch and her eyelids open slowly. Her heart dithers as his hazel eyes bore into hers, piercing right through her soul. “My king… You are not sleeping. Again…”

“I can't.” Jon leans in for a kiss. “So many thoughts are weighing on me.”

“I know…” she says while her hand strokes his beard. “I lost my inner peace long ago, but I've learned to live with that.” Both keep gazing at each other and a long moment of silence floats around.

“Marry me.” these words pour out of his mouth, almost without him realizing it. But it was like an automatic reaction of his body, unable to put a restraint on it. He is dazed by the intensity of how they came out.

Daenerys sits upright, not breaking eye contact with him. She is stunned. Adopting the same position, Jon feels his heart racing. “I know this is sudden, but it's just how I feel…” his brows furrow for a slight moment, while his hand wraps around hers; he squeezes it gently, rubbing her knuckle. “I know that I am a bastard and -”

His words are muffled by her osculating kiss, her lips pressing hard and swathing his own.

“Yes.” she whispers when their mouths are a breath apart.

“Yes?” he sighs.

She nods. “I never cared about your family name and you know that. You are as much as a king as I'm a queen. I love you… We are equals and that will suffice.”

His lips crash over hers in an instant and soon enough their kiss nurture their carnal urges as well.

 

* * *

 

A few days passed and the weather became harsher. Each windowpane was frosted along its edges and people started to forfeit their appetite for battle. The freezing winds exhorted them to stay most of the time inside their shelters.

 The only ones untouched by cold are the Unsullied and dothraki men. They could endure the worst of all climatic conditions. Still they might be liabilities in this war, for they have no experience fighting in cold weather and snow, especially not against an enemy they don't know.

 Jon made sure everyone from Winter Town will be safe before the dead men will foray their homes. Maester Wolkan showed him a map he found in the old archives of maester Luwin. Hidden passages and tunnels underground were marked on the paper. Beneath the tunnels and the crypts used to enshrine the dead Starks, some points were marked as hot springs. They had to check that network of tunnels and find a way out in case they will be swamped by the Night King and his army. The collapse of Winterfell could also be the doom of many wights.

[...]

“My lady, your emissary is here.”

“Let him in.”

The man enters and hands her an epistle with the sigil of House Arryn. “Here you have your answer, my lady…” he bows and leaves the room.

Sansa beams as she persues the letter. Clearly, Robin is willing to help.

 

* * *

 

“He is close…” Jon embraces her from behind. She looks outside, dread misting over her heart.

Her winged children will be in the forefront of the battle soon, engulfing the dead army in a field of fire; but still, they have proven vulnerable despite her belief that no one could ever harm them.

The tragedy that befell Viserion, could easily come back twice again and the queen feels a lump in her stomach just by imagining her children's death.

She covers her mouth, feeling sick.

“Dany?” Moving in front of her, Jon frowns. She breathes with a drudge effort, her face and lips are pale. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know…” she leans in and rests her head on the crook of his neck. Jon holds her and caresses her back, soothing the nausea wriggling in her belly. “I am so tired… This is the fourth day I wake up and I feel like my entrails are coming out my mouth.”

“I will tell the maester to pay you a visit later and check on you. Alright?” she nods. “Now get some rest. Come…”

“Wait… Hold me like this a while longer. You're easing my ailing.”

Jon smiles and closes his eyes kissing her temple. “I love you…”

Daenerys embraces him in a clasp, pressing her lips against his skin and inhaling his scent. “I love you too…”

 

* * *

 

The Great Hall filled with people. Jon decided to tell everyone about their alliance in marriage, hoping this announcement will strengthen their trust. They seemed to start liking Daenerys, for she was kind to them beyond deserving. However, she was still a Targaryen and Jon wasn't completely sure all the northerners will accept their union.

“Thank you for being here, my lords. We have had many gatherings until now, discussing battle plans and trying to find ways to win this war. The Night King must be near and I am glad the walls are fully reinforced. We are ready to face them and I strongly believe that we can win. We must win. Our efforts have been massive and even if we lose this battle here, at least we will make things lively for them.”

“Aye…” the lords agree.

“Even so, we are here for another reason today.” he looks back at Daenerys, who stands and joins him. “The queen and I grew fond of each other and we concerted to unite our lives into wedlock.”

The following commotion took them all by surprise. “You are telling us that she will be our queen eventually?” Lord Manderly spats. “I recall she said the opposite!”

“My lords! Please…” Daenerys proceeds, “I don't want to marry your king for the North. If I really wanted that I could've simply taken it. We want this for ourselves… I know my family's background is not a good one and you're right to doubt my intentions, but… We might die. And what I feel for Jon Snow is far more important than a throne or a place to rule.” she inhales deeply, “I wanted us to share this with you, because your opinions matter. Some of you probably disagree, but all I ask of you is to give me a chance.”

They all look at her, different emotions being displayed.

Sansa was clearly disrupted by the idea and Arya had an deadpan look.

“If you really want to take this step to the next point…” Bran makes himself conspicuous, “... then Jon… you should know the truth.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I won't post another chapter until before or after winter holidays. I'm quite busy, but still I started to write a few lines of it. Hope you enjoyed this one :)


	12. "The truth"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon finds out the truth about his parentage. This fact leads to unpleasant situations. Will this change everything for the worse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠ This story has mature content and/or profanity ⚠

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“If you really want to take this step to the next point…” Bran makes himself conspicuous, “... then Jon… you should know the truth.”

Each pair of eyes is now following the sound of Bran's voice.

“Brother… What are you talking about?”

“It's time for you to know. This might change everything…”

Jon watches his friend standing as well. Sam looks around, noticing the chary looks of the northerners; his nervousness is obvious.

“He's talking about you.” He says eventually.

“Sam… what is the meaning of this? Since our reunion, both of you are acting strange.”

“We've been trying to tell you something very important for a while now. But somehow other matters always interfered and -"

“Alright then.” Jon interrupts, “I am listening now. What's so important that we need to discuss right here and right now?"

“Your family. And you.” Bran answers.

“My family?” Jon is confused.

“More precisely… your mother.”

“My mother? Bran, what does this have to do with what we were discussing here?”

“It does. And very much.” Drawing in a deep breath, Bran proceeds. “I know the truth about her. About you… I know who she is.”

Jon stands there, slack-jawed, as old memories of his childhood flash in his mind. _His mother…_ He doesn’t remember the last time he mentioned her; the last time he fell asleep thinking and wondering who  
she might be…

“My mother? The only person who knew about her was father and he is gone. So how did-”

Bran cuts him off. “Ned Stark is not your father.” There are raised eyebrows and some men gasp out loud. Arya and Sansa leap from their seats, looking mouth-agape at their younger brother.

“Bran, what's the meaning of this? Why are you saying that Jon is not father's son? ” Sansa asks.

“Because he is not.” People heave up from their seats as well, the tumult and clamor of the teeming crowds who throng the Great Hall, tensing the ambience. Jon is absolutely flabbergasted, he just stands there looking  
blankly at Bran.

“Lyanna.” Sam continues, “Lyanna Stark… She was your mother.”

“What?” Arya exclaims in shock.

“It's true. We didn't tell you this sooner because you had more important things to do but I-”

“We?” Jon's face turns pale and every trace of the early good humor leaves him. He can't believe his ears. “What does that even mean?”

“Remember…” says Bran, “... father never spoke about her. He always shunned the subject, each time her name was pronounced. He was pained, looking as if plummets are always weighing on his shoulders; on his conscience; and now I understand why…”

“This…how…?” Jon feels like the earth is crumbling beneath his feet.

Sansa rushes towards him and grabs his forearm. “Jon, I think we should continue this in a more private place. People are watching…” she whispers.

“No! I want him to tell me. How is it that Ned Stark is not my father? After all these years… No… This cannot be true!” Jon frowns and starts to tremble, his breathing becoming more ragged.

“He came from war with you in his arms.” Jon paces around nervously, shaking his head in refutation. “Your mother asked him to protect you. That's why he lied. He even trampled his honor in order to keep you safe.”

“No…”

“Yes, Jon. You are Lyanna's son…”

Knowing the story of her kidnapping and how that led to her death, Jon turns his head to glance at Daenerys. He knows what that means, but the shock makes his mind race, not accepting the truth of what he just heard.

 _This is madness_ … Tyrion thinks and thinks and slowly everything starts to make sense. Ned Stark was too honorable to cheat on his wife.

But if he's the son of our aunt…” Sansa starts, “then…”

“Yes.” Bran proceeds, with an equable manner of talking. “You're the son of Rhaegar Targaryen.” Jon stands in front of his brother, transfixed, as if he is incapable of realising what is happening around him. The room fills with fuss, men and women gossiping with one another.

Daenerys is at a loss for words. She feels all her body going numb. _What?_

Her advisors look with consternation at their queen and all the northern lords, including Lyanna Mormont, have their mouths dropped in a gape. Tyrion seems calm except for his heavy nervous breathing.

“My lord, if this is a presumption, then it's a grave one.” Tyrion steps forward, “There is no proof of what you are saying. We all know how Lyanna Stark died, but…”

“Exactly. What we know it's a total falsehood. _Robert's rebellion was built on a lie_. The prince never kidnapped our aunt.”

“Jon…” Sam takes a step towards him, but Jon backs off at the same instant, the bitter look he casts at his friend, fitting his sullen countenance.  

Daenerys, in turn, feels like tears are about to come out of her eyes, yet she's able to barely control it.

“You're saying he's a Targaryen bastard?” Tyrion asks.

“He's not.” Sam continues, while the others gasp again. “Lyanna married Rhaegar Targaryen in a secret ceremony in Dorne.” Jon almost loses his poise and leans against the table behind him. In a split second, Davos is next to him, grabbing his arm. “My king…”

“I have this diary… It's the diary of the septon who performed the ceremony. He annulled Rhaegar's marriage to Ellia Martell and at the same time -”

“Lord Tarly, the queen's brother had only two children. And they were massacred, when Robert Baratheon rebelled against Aerys Targaryen.” Tyrion looks back at the queen, whose body is stiff and he can see the anger and shock etched on her face; as hard as she tries to compose herself, these news came as a major coup, ready to strike her down. “There are no other registered heirs.” he continues.

“No. My father took him as his own. I saw it. I saw Lyanna dying in childbirth. I saw father taking Jon with him. Our aunt knew Robert won't let any Targaryen alive and she begged our father to protect him.”

“You saw it?” Tyrion huffs. “You think a bunch of visions from the past are proof enough for your statement?”

“Who are you to speak like that to my brother?” Sansa hisses. “This has nothing to do with you!”

“I must disagree with you, my lady. As Hand of the Queen, I must say it is a curious situation. Just before she is a few steps away from reclaiming her rightful place on the Iron Throne, now others seem to have a better claim. Odd…” Tyrion knows this is indeed a shocking turn of events. Involuntarily, he feels disaffection.

“You're as treacherous as your sister.” Sansa grimaces. “Now mark my word! This is our home! You and your queen shouldn't have been here in the first place!”

“Sansa! That's enough.” Jon spats.

“No! Bran, please explain what is the purpose of this? Why did you decide to tell us this just now?”

“I said that's enough!!!” Jon hits hard his fists on the table.

“For how long did you think you could deceive me?” Daenerys speaks for the first time since the discussions began. She looks at Jon with a resentful glance. “Since when did you start plotting to take my place?”

Jon looks up at her, a tear slipping on his cheek. The intense contempt in her voice breaks his heart. He's staring at her in incredulity.

“Since when?” she repeats her words, her eyes bloodshot. Uncontrollably, tears start streaking her face, her lips tasting their salty flavor. She understands now. She knows why he had such a strong connection with her dragon. She knows now, why she was so drawn to him. Even if others doubt somewhat his origins, she knows… maybe deep down she always knew…

Without a single word, Jon squeezes his eyes shut and turns around, leaving the room at a fast pace. Everyone moves out of his range, fastening their eyes on him with stupor. Arya hastens to follow him, but Gendry grabs her arm. “Don't… he needs to be alone.”

 

* * *

 

 

The snow falls straight and steadily from a sky that seems to squander. It blows down Winterfell in a horizontal blur. The keep looks like a snow-streaked fortress, all its height obliterated in the storm.

Jon walks outside, his furry cloak blowing in the cold wind. He doesn't feel how the frozen gusts bur the skin on his face, nor the thick snow that turns his tears into icicles.

Finding his way to the crypts, Jon tries to hold his breath, for the pain inside his chest threatens to wreck the bony frame around his heart. A series of scenarios are playing in his head; hundreds of thoughts bray his mind. He wishes none of these things were true.

 

* * *

 

The statue of Ned Stark was always the first one he set his eyes on, when he came here. But this time, his eyes are glued on the one of the woman he never expected to be his mother. He walks and walks, until he stands in front of it. The graven image of Lyanna Stark.

A quavery hand reaches the cold monolith and in the next moment, Jon falls on his knees and breaks down. He gives free rein to the pain inside his chest and starts to cry. _“You… you've always been here and I didn't even know that…”_ he murmurs between long shuddering sobs. All that longing and need he had as a young boy, to know how a mother's touch would be… It comes now like a crushing wave and he's not able to fight against its weight.

Tears wet the dirt, as he keeps his head lowered and he just cries away, not caring if someone will hear him. The ache seems impossible to bear.

 _Daenerys…_ she appears in his mind and the thought of losing her magnifies the sorrow. Jon loves her with all his heart and yet, he never thought that destiny could play him in such a way. Of all people, faith had to choose exactly _her_ to be his relative.

“All my life was built on a lie… _He_ knew…he knew how much I longed to know about _you_ , but he just let me believe I’m a spawn; _the bastard of Winterfell…_

***

Daenerys stands at the tall window, barely reaching the sill; the glass fogs before her face. There was a momentary hint of blue sky, until the clouds gathered again, bringing an earlier night.

She watches the snow falling in a coarse diffusion, thin trickles of tears flowing from her eyes.

Missandei knocks on her door and cracks it open. “May I come in, Your Grace?” She sees Daenerys nodding and enters her chamber. “I brought you supper.” The queen keeps looking outside, without saying a word.

Placing the tray on the table, she comes closer. “Your Grace, if you need to talk to someone, I want you to know that I’m here… always.” Seeing that Daenerys doesn’t respond to her words, she turns around to leave.

“What should I do now?” Missandei stops. She harks back and sees the swollen eyes of her queen. “Tell me. What should I do now?”

“I don’t know, Your Grace. But may I ask… does this change the way you feel about him?”

Daenerys ponders her friend’s question thoroughly. She bethinks herself of the past. How much she sacrificed; how much she lost just to be here and reclaim her kingdom from usurpers. She knew that she’s the only Targaryen left and yet, destiny brought her and Jon together. The price her family had to pay, the price _she_ had to pay for her brother’s choice was high.

The situation took a turn for the worse in just a matter of few minutes. But she can’t deny that her love for Jon Snow came to the fore in her heart. No matter the blood ties between them, she loves him deeply still.

“I’m thinking…maybe this is just a bad dream and I have to wake up soon. It’s surreal… I –“

Her words are scotched as she feels a pounding behind her eyes, the beginning of a headache, and nausea in her stomach. She puts her hand over her mouth and leans against the wardrobe behind her.

“Your Grace, are you alright?” Missandei reaches for her arm and leads her to sit on the bed.

The queen exhales deeply. She looks wan and bleary-eyed. “I’m not sure…  This happens quite often lately.”

Missandei eyes her questioningly. “Your Grace, forgive me for being inquisitive, but… when was the last time you bled?”

“I’m not sure… I stopped paying attention to that long ago.” As soon as she finishes her sentence, Daenerys realizes what her advisor is implying.

“Your Grace, what if… you’re with child?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone and sorry for delaying this update. I have a very busy schedule and sometimes I just can't keep my promise. So, once again I'm very sorry...  
> Writing this chapter was quite difficult and I chose to limit myself to only one location (Winterfell). I hope you enjoy this one. I tried my best to imagine how this scene will play out.  
> I apologize for my grammar mistakes. Thanks for your patience!


	13. "The truth" - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qyburn surprises his queen with a new and improved weapon. Daenerys and Jon discuss, but both have inner struggles to deal with. The Golden Company reaches The Fingers, getting closer and closer to the North. People at Winterfell are unsettled and many want to leave, but they will be forced to remain and fight after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ⚠ This story has mature content and/or profanity ⚠

 

* * *

 

 

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Missandei was right. Even if the queen believed she's barren, even if her hopes of bearing a living child sunk years ago, in the same desert her khal died, here she was…

“I'm not sure this is possible. I was told that I will never be a mother.”

“And who exactly told you that?” Maester Wolkan came that day as Jon instructed him, before that convoluted situation had arisen.

“A witch.” she hesitates for a moment, swallowing the lump from her throat and fighting back her tears. “I was with child once… But I paid for someone else's life with my son's. That's how I know.” she confesses.

The maester looks at her with sympathy. “I don't know what that woman told you. What I do know is that you've changed, Your Grace.” the maester comes closer and places a hand over her belly. “Your body doesn't lie. You're with child.”

His words numb her senses and she feels suddenly the muscles of her chin trembling like those of an infant. Looking toward the window, as if the light could soothe her, tears start dripping her eyes. Instinctively, her hand finds a rest on the same spot she thinks her baby might be and the salty drops fall from her chin, drenching her crimson scarf.

“I think I should let you rest, Your Grace.” Maester Wolkan bows and turns around to leave.

“Please don't tell anyone.” her voice interrupts his pace and the old man looks back. Her face is streaked with tears and she gulps a sob to be able to speak. “This must remain secret… at least for now.”

“What about the father, my queen?”

“We already faced a difficult day. I will tell him. In time…”

“As you wish, Your Grace…”

When she remained in solitude, brick by brick her walls came tumbling down. The sobs punched through, ripping through her muscles. She pressed her forehead against her knees and let her heart yank in and out of her chest. She felt hollow.

For the first time in ages, she let the tears dribble ceaselessly, for those were the only ones keeping her soul alive in the furnace of her pain.

 

* * *

** King’s Landing **

Cersei visits one of the Red Keep's underground vaults, where the skulls of the Targaryen dragons lay. Walking in, with grace and poise in her pace, the queen meets her Hand.

Qyburn guides her to the place, where they tested last time his ballista on Balerion's skull.

“I have something to show you, Your Grace.” the man walks near the wall and throws aside the cover that hid underneath a larger _scorpion_.

“An improved weapon…” she smirks as her fingers trace the length of the iron bolt.

“It is, my queen. But I also have some news. One of my whisperers told me something that you might find very interesting. Daenerys Targaryen lost one of her dragons beyond the Wall, in their attempt to capture that _thing_.”

“[chuckle] I knew it. She came here with her entire army, to show us her power. And yet one of her dragons was nowhere to be seen. We must find a way to get rid of the others for good.”

“They are powerful creatures. But they can be killed as we know. It seems that her dragons are stronger that the ones we know from books and legends. Their scales are incredibly thick, almost impenetrable, so any crossbow we would use will only hurt them but not send them to their graves.” Qyburn touches the eye socket of Balerion. “Three hundreds of years ago, Meraxes, the dragon of Rhaenys Targaryen died as an iron bolt from a scorpion went through his eye… quite a deathly target. Since there's little chance of aiming for their eyes, I had to come up with something else.”

“And what is that?”

“I ordered the blacksmiths to create a few dozen bolts. The carpenters will build more ballistas.” Cersei grins her lionlike leer. “There's an addition to the weapon. The bolt is coated in Manticore venom. Extremely lethal. A single sting is usually more than enough to kill a person.”

“A single sting…” her lips curve into a simper as her eyes settle on the huge bolt tip.

“We will use multiple shots to hit the dragons and I dare to say, Your Grace, that this time we will succeed.”

“Good. I suppose the truce fell apart. The traitor probably informed them already that help won't come. That silver-haired bitch will use this as an opportunity to attack King's Landing. I want her to fall alongside her beasts. Then, we'll deal with the northern bastard and his dead army.”

 

* * *

** Winterfell **

Two days passed. Each one of them was measured from the moment of waking into his new reality, until sleep came to rest his fatigued mind. Jon seemed to avoid everyone. His people, his family… _her_ …

Sansa and Arya wanted to talk to him, but he just shut himself in his shell, giving them to understand that he wants to be alone. In his sadness there was no past or future, just living by the moment. His spirit was greyed, all that he imagined to bring his joy and relief in the future being tainted.

The crack of dawn awaited him to start again his duties, his mind striving to focus only on the war. But at night, his sleep was disturbed by his inner struggle. A battle between a dragon and a wolf, which seemed to carry on without prevail.

As much as he tried to accept his faith, he couldn't forget, nor forgive. He was deprived of the truth, deprived of his life. Turned into a bastard and despised by many people, mocked, betrayed and killed.

What pained him the most was the bitter truth he held before his world began to fall apart. The love he was bearing _her_ felt like the cuts of a thousand blades.

His eyes dampened with tears and he reached up to wipe one away, before it could drip further.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys walks the battlements of Winterfell, snow mushy underfoot. Puffy flakes alight on her face softer than a kiss. She watches her dragons from atop, remembering the day they came into the world. Illyrio Mopatis’ wedding gift…

Jon climbs the stairs to the wall and jibs in an instant. His heart skips a beat at the sight of her.

The queen looks back as if she knew he was watching. Jon can't help but stare at her face.

She looks so charming, her tresses blowing in the wind; her white dress melting in the milky snow.

The way he looks at her takes every ounce of breath from her lungs.

He was her one stable force, her only stability in a world filled with chaos . Suddenly, she craves for that thing again, needing it so desperately in her life.

The feeling is so strange, it stretches throughout her whole body. In her life she had only ever fallen twice. Once with an opposite, once with a mirror. Jon is her mirror, to whom she has given the power to save her or destroy her.

[…]

Moving slowly towards her as if dragged by an invisible magnet, Jon's eyes never part hers.

She feels a tremor, but it's not the cold culpable of that.

Jon clears his throat, coming to himself. “You shouldn't be up here. It's too cold.”

“It doesn't matter. It can't be worse than already is.” she wants to leave, but he stops her way.

“Daenerys…” she looks up and their eyes meet. “That day…[sigh] I really didn't know. I swear…”

“I am not sure this will make any difference.”

“It would. If you'd just believe me…”

Daenerys takes a step back. “I don't blame you for anything. It's not your fault people lied. I just… I am angry and confused. The price I paid to be here -”

“You really think I want to take the kingdom away from you? I didn't even want to become King in the North. I swore my allegiance to you and even if I know the truth of who I am, an oath is an oath.”

“It's your right by birth. I can't do anything about it.”

“My right? Gods… I grew up knowing I'm Ned Stark's son. I grew up as a bastard and now… Now it seems that the brother of the woman I fell in love with, is actually my true father! Do you really think that a throne will make me feel better after everything I know? That everything will disappear over night and I will just start over?”

“This is not my fault!” she spats, tears trickling down her face. “It was not me the one choosing to marry in secret! They were! Your mother and my brother! I suffered as much as you did or even more because of his choice!”

“Daenerys…”

“No! You have no right to speak to me that way! I received you into my home… I helped you, I loved you, I gave you all of me and as soon as you found out the truth, you just pushed me away! Are you so ashamed of what happened between us?”

“Never. Despite everything, my feelings for you haven't changed. It's just -”

“Just what? It's all about your honor, isn't it?”

“No… Please -” he tries to touch her, but her body jerks with the recoil of an arrow.

“Don't. I gave you my word to stay and fight. But I will leave as soon as this war ends. If we survive…”

Daenerys turns her back and leaves in haste. Jon watches her moving away, as beads of water start falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping. He hits the wall and tries to scream, but his voice melts away.

 

* * *

 

Outside Winterfell, the place looked like an unfinished painting, many parts of the canvas being still perfectly white.

The wind howled, piling up snow in drifts and the walls loomed into their vision, the evening being blinded by ice-white dust.

People on horseback.

[...]

The horn is blown once and the gates open, allowing them to come inside the walls. As Jon leaves the keep, he meets them halfway through the courtyard. He notices the banner carried by one of them. The two stone grey towers and bridge of the Twins, on a dark grey field, surmounting an escutcheon of blue water.

A girl dismounts her horse helping a child to alight as well. The frantic flurry of swirling white heaps on her eyelashes. Despide the cold that scourged her skin and crept under her garments, she bows, her gesture being responded in kind. “Good evening, my lord.” With gently chattering teeth she wraps her cloak around her tighter. “I am Roslin, the daughter of Walder Frey and spouse to Edmure Tully, lord of Riverrun.”

At the mention of her name, some guards start to chatter.

Jon looks at the others accompanying her. A tall silhouette that seems to be one of a man, heaves into sight. He steps closer. Removing the cowl from his head, the man reveals his face. _Edmure Tully_.

The last time Edmure Tully saw the daylight, the Freys used him to lay siege to Riverrun. Later, Jaime Lannister arrived on the orders of King Tommen I and managed to end it. He used Edmure to seize hold of the keep by commanding the Tully garrison to lay down their weapons, in return for mercy and protection.

 _The Black Fish_ was murdered during a final stand with his opponents’ forces, while Edmure was returned to the Freys as a prisoner.

With the destruction of House Frey, the current lord of the Riverlands was freed from the dungeon and tended by Walder's daughters.

[…]

Sansa watches them from afar, a cold look on her face. Her uncle is now just a ghost of what Edmure Tully once was.

 “I am here to help. It’s the least I can do for my sister’s family.”

Jon remembers vaguely Catelyn's younger brother. He was just a boy the last time Edmure visited Winterfell. And after the Red Wedding, most people believed he suffered the same faith as his family. “Thank you for coming.” Jon grabs the nut of a guard's tunic and stops him on his way to the gate. “Lead these people to the kitchen and make sure they're well fed.” The man nods. “We will talk later, my lord. Get some rest.”

All that being said, Edmure Tully and the Frey girls follow the guard.

 “These people murdered my family. Are you seriously considering to let them under our roof?” Sansa crops up behind Jon.

He looks at her for a long moment, before he answers. “Those girls are not responsible for what that old man did.”

Before Sansa could yap her discontent, a guard runs towards them.“Your Grace!” The man halts, trying to catch his breath.

“I’m not king anymore. What’s the matter?”

“Some of the smallfolk were killed in Winter Town. A few guards were patrolling the streets, when they found their bodies near the woods.”

Jon blinks a few times, gritting his teeth. _“Seven hells…”_ he mutters. “Did they burn them?”

“Yes, but we don’t know how many of those things might be out there...”

“Fetch me a horse.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks him while walking towards the gate.

“Sansa, we will continue this conversation later. I must go. Make sure the gates are well locked after I leave.”

“But…[sigh]”

In a swift move, Jon straddles the horse and leaves. She watches him fading into the whiteout, her breath pale against the numbling air.

 

* * *

 

** Winter Town **

Snow hugged the town under its frigid eiderdown. There was not a soul to be seen, but Jon kept riding his horse, bent over against the cold.

Houses, cowsheds, coops… they all seemed desolated.

Somewhere near Wolfswood, the snow was stained with shades of pink and crimson. _Blood_ ...

Under a ragged pine, a battered lifeless frame of a young boy laid sunken awkwardly into the snow.

Jon’s heaving breath fogged the air before him. He had an uncanny feeling that he was being watched. And then he saw _it._ Dire blue eyes were glowing from between the pale icy teeth, adorning the branches of a tree.

The dead boy was standing now behind him. Jon could hear the bones in his stiffened neck creak as he turned his scalped head. Then with a snapping of his jaws, he swarmed forward to attack.

Jon grabbed the hilt of Long Claw, but before he could unsheathe it, a growl broke through the sinister sound of snowfall and inhuman moans.

Ghost leaped out from the forest and knocked the dead boy down. His teeth started to tear apart his already lacerated flesh, until his guts spilled into the snow.

Reaching up in his desperate attempt to rip Ghost’s head off, curdling groans gargled in his throat and his eyeballs had a popping look as they swiveled in their sockets.

And then he shrieked. Long Claw pierced his flesh and the boy’s corpse collapsed. Jon pulled out his sword and his eyes fell on Ghost.

“Where on earth have you been?” Jon beams at last, happy to be reunited with his most loyal friend. He pets him, not caring that his fur is stained with blood. “I hope you are here to stay, boy. Come home with me.”

 

* * *

 

** Winterfell **

She had a hand over her mouth, the other splayed over her belly.

“Your Grace, are you alright?” Missandei asks while braiding her hair.

Daenerys nods.

[knock] [knock]

“Come in!”

Varys enters and curtsies. “I have some disturbing news, my queen. Cersei retook possession of Casterly Rock. Her men garrison the stronghold again.”

She smolders underneath her stoical expression. “I expected that of her.” Varys looks at her with an uneasy expression. “Is there something else?”

“She burned the rest of our fleet. We have no boats left.”

Daenerys winces from her seat, feeling a sudden wave of rage deafening her. Did she hear right?

That jolt of anger clouded her judgment in a split second; she put on her cloak and stormed outside the room.

 

* * *

 

Lighting a candle, Jon looks at the statue of his mother, trying to picture her face in his mind. He picks up the plume from her palm and touches its edges.

“He used to come here a lot too.” Arya walks into the crypts and stands in front of Ned's statue. “Father…” Seeing that Jon doesn't say anything, she proceeds. “I know you are angry with him. For not telling you the truth… but he was your father. And you are my brother. That will never change.”

Jon smiles, his eyes still sad.

Arya pulls out Needle from its sheath. “Do you remember when you gave me this sword?

“How could I forget?”

“This sword was the only piece of home I held. In the time I spent in Braavos, I became an entirely different person. This sword was my only talisman.” she looks at him with a resolute gaze. “We're both the same, you and I. Remember, big brother… I love you. I will always love you and I don't care if you're a Targaryen or not. A name doesn't make you king and you’ve proved that.” Wallowed in emotion, both share an affectionate embrace.

“I love you too. Very much…”

 

* * *

 

** Narrow Sea **

_Silence,_ the flagship of Euron Greyjoy cut through the fog, its black sails flitting in the strong nippy wind.

His great armada reached _The Fingers_.

Lonely, cold and windswept peninsulas, they were divided by bays, inlets and channels, which now glistened pale under a layer of frost.

Only a few leagues separated them from the estuary of the White Knife.

Leaning to the wind, the ship glided through the sea and only the rush of water at her prow, broke the silence from time to time.

Harry Strickland stood on the deck and scrutinized the northeastern landscape cloaked in a pristine white pelt, that glowed in the light of a horned moon.

His breath fogged the chilly air before him, once, twice… and then a heavy flap of wings scattered around the wisps of silvery clouds, drawing his attention.

The general screwed up his eyes, trying to peer through the fog and finally he saw _him…_

Drogon swept the murky heavens, his wings casting a shadow upon the sea, one bigger than the ship itself.

Gasps could be heard, as every deck on every warship filled with men who looked about for the mysterious beast.

 

* * *

 

Daenerys knew her anger would always come like an impossible buildup steam, burning her on the way out and burning the one on the receiving end. Now she felt it. A swelling on her veins waiting to explode.

Holding onto her child, she swallowed that anger and felt it growing in her belly. Gods forbid, when she'll have Cersei before her, it will come out even hotter than her dragon's consuming flames.

This wrath overpowered her, for her head began to spin. As a new life rooted in her womb, every emotion grew in intensity.

Instinctively, she reached out her ungloved hand to touch her face, to reassure herself that she will be fine. Upon contact, she recoiled her fingers, for as much as her anger felt fiery, the coldness of her skin shocked her. In the brief touch, enough heat was stolen to turn her lips blue.

Daenerys in her snit has underestimated the cold that night and the air started to wick her heat away faster than her body could replace it.

She rolled her eyes on the vast surface water of the Narrow Sea, only to sight hundreds of warships drifting towards The Bite. Tall masts were scratching the fog, golden krakens dancing in the middle of sable black sails. _“Greyjoy...”_ she thought.

Her mind filled with a mixture of inquiertude and the earlier anger she tried hard to control. Knuckles turned white from clenching her fists around Drogon's spikes and teeth gritted from effort to remain composed.

She had one purpose to fulfill in that moment. One. And now everything went down the drain, because the circumstances forced her to turn back.

She knew where that fleet was heading. She knew what the North will face. And the vivid memory of that moment, when Jon's true identity was revealed… when her world began to crumble… Well, that memory brought bitterness into her heart.

Her hunched form exuded an animosity, that was like acid - burning, slicing, powerful. Even so, her heart pushed her always towards Jon's direction and the truth of what she truly felt for him stung like needles. She loved him undoubtedly… and she carried his child .

“Take me back… ” she whispered to her dragon.

 

* * *

 

** Winterfell **

The Great Hall is in an uproar. Sansa convened a gathering to hear people's complaints, for many threatened to leave.

The sound rends the air as the lords quarrel inside the walls.

“We waited long enough! We deserve an explanation, lady Sansa!” asks Manderly.

“Aye!” the men bawl.

“What happens now? We're surrounded by scoundrels and the man we chose as our king surrendered the North! On top of all he's a Targaryen!” Lord Glover spits in disgust.

“My lords, please! Our father did what he believed it's right. Jon might be a Targaryen, but he's also a Stark. And a man of honor.”

“My lady, with all due respect, but I think we overlooked too many things! We are forced to work and fight alongside savages and traitors!” Even lord Royce is enraged. “And right before the war, secrets are revealed! We've been told lies all along!”

The door opens and Jon steps inside, Arya following him. Everyone goes quiet, the men making way for them to pass.

Sansa stands. “Where have you been?” she whispers when Jon comes near her. “People are angry. Many want to leave.”

“We will discuss now. Where are Daenerys and the others?”

“Your queen left us.”

Jon turns around and squints at lord Glover. “What?”

 “She mounted her beast and rode off into the sunset.” he continues, his voice hardened by sarcasm.

The horner silences them. They all look at one another, Jon's heart filling with dread when a second sound pierces the air. And then the third blow follows.

It means only one thing - the army of the dead reached Winterfell.

 


End file.
